


Season Two

by VenomQuill



Series: Our Uncle Who Lives in the Woods [3]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Relativity Falls, F/M, Inverted Relativity Falls, M/M, Referenced Relationship means it has happened at one point in time, You know what episode I'm talking about, minor violence torture gross disfiguration and animal murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-04-03 23:49:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 166,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14007516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenomQuill/pseuds/VenomQuill
Summary: Here, Stanley and Stanford have gone through the summer goofing off and playing with the mysteries of this town. End to this has come as Gideon's vicious attack and Bill's betrayal has sent them reeling. Listen closely, you might hear them. In this town, anything is possible. Especially things that are not. Stanley and Stanford's summer has changed, with Bill's treachery and new things appearing, is the trust they have in this small town really going to be enough?Set in Inverted Relativity Falls, this is a full-length fan novel for Gravity Falls.





	1. Scary-Oke

**Author's Note:**

> See the title card for this series on dA: http://fav.me/dbou0jk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gideo **n** has been defeated! He’s in jail and probably out of their hair! What better time to throw a party than this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find the Title Card on dA: http://fav.me/dc62l46

_Creeeek… creeeek…_  The crescent moon weather vane creaked back and forth in its indecision. There was little in the way of wind that night. The nighttime animals kept their distance from the old Space Shack. Every few seconds, the Shack would shutter like a dollhouse after a kid stomped on the ground next to it. The twin boys, Stanley and Stanford, didn’t wake up from their much-needed sleep. Even when the cracks in their floorboard flashed a very bright blue, neither of them woke. Gompers opened his eyes after a particularly bright flash of light. However, his own exhaustion caused him to simply set his head back down and go back to sleep.

A third human, underneath the Shack, was awake and alert. Grunkle Dipper, in his sleeping clothes, had his hands on his hips. He stared up into the frothing, circular center of the upside-down triangle machine. The ring of runes around the circle blazed and shimmered.

Now, he laughed and grinned wider, if that was possible. “Thirty long years, and it’s all led up to this. My greatest achievement!” Electricity burst from the frothing circle of light. Dipper gasped and raised an arm in front of himself to shield his face. He patted down a lick of fire on his shoulder and straightened up again. “Hehe… feisty, aren’t you?”

The man walked back into the all-too-familiar control room and sat down. After he flicked a few switches, a panel above him opened. A digital screen blinked to life. Boxes with symbols flickered on. “AUTO SCAN” flickered over the screen for a moment before falling away to reveal pages of symbols. “If I finally pull this off, it’ll all have been worth it!” Outside, the machine jittered and sparked with more fervor. Behind him, pages of ones and zeroes were being printed out of a machine. “0.0000000000% COMPLETE” shown on the screen above the printing paper.

He set his hand on one of the three sparkly pink scrapbooks, all of which were open to the page concerning the triangle machine numbers and buttons. A blue portable reading light shown over it. “Okay, Dipper. Just keep playing it cool. If anyone ever found out about this…” His gaze drifted to the picture frame on his desk. Stanley held down Stanford in a headlock while Stanford stuck his tongue out at him. The two laughed and smiled. For a moment, his smile faltered. He shook his head and chuckled. “Yeah, right. Who could catch me now?” Grunkle Dipper fitted a tight yellow glove and then yanked down a switch labeled “MAX POWER”.

Ethereal blue, blinding light set the entire town aglow in blue light. Dan, his window and shades open to bring in a breeze, winced at the sudden light. Gideon, asleep in his cell, opened one eye. The twins upstairs shuttered, but made no other motions of waking up.

Yet, in outerspace, a satellite twitched and turned as the sudden spike of energy was caught and focused upon.

 

_Ffzzzz. Beeeep! Beeep! Beeep! Beeep!_  Dipper jerked awake, a paper stuck to his chin. He rubbed his eyes and looked at the alarm that now blared. 7:00 a.m. He turned off the alarm. “Oh, right. Show time.”

 

In his navy blue suit speckled white, Grunkle Dipper stood on the counter of the Gift Shop. Stanley and Stanford stood beside him. Grunkle Dipper announced, “Thank you for coming! Welcome to the grand re-opening of the Space Shack!” The crowd clapped. “Thank you! We’re here to celebrate the defeat of that punk, Gideon!” Grunkle Dipper picked up the last plush of Gideon that hadn’t been destroyed in some way. The crowd booed. “Please, please… boo harder!” Grunkle Dipper encouraged. The crowd booed louder. _Man, that felt good._  He laughed and set down the toy. He set his hands on the twins’ shoulders and knelt behind them. “Ah but I didn’t catch the guy alone. These little detectives deserve most of the glory.”

“Now, smile for the camera!” Thompson Determined announced and held up a cinderblock made to look like a camera.

Dipper raised an eyebrow. “Thompson, that’s a cinderblock.”

At this, Thompson lowered the camera and hung his head. “I just want to be a part of things.”

Now that Thompson was out of the way, Shandra Jimenez stepped forward. The cameraman held up the camera above Shandra’s shoulder. “Smile for a  _real_  camera.”

Each of the three smiled. “Everyone say ‘something stupid’!”

While Stanford grinned and waved his hand, Stanley waved both hands in a grand gesture. Grunkle Dipper put a hand to his neck as if being choked. “Something stupid!” The camera flashed.

“Wee-op!” Stanley picked up a black poster. “AFTER PARTY” was written in black on top of a pink spatter stain. A few police-tape lines of text fell under it. “PARTY” “LIGHT” “MUSIC!” were some of the Lines. “Don’t forget to come to the after party tonight at eight!”

“And we’ll have karaoke!” Grunkle Dipper pulled out a plain blue karaoke machine.

“Yep!” Dan opened the door and blew on a foghorn. “Buy a ticket, people! You know you don’t have anything else going on in your lives!” He led them outside, hand in the air and voice raised so that everyone could hear him. “Come on! Tonight’s going to be killer!”

The trio jumped off the countertop. Grunkle Dipper leaned on the counter. “Ah, would you look at that. The town likes us again, we finally got that Gideon smell out of the carpet. Everything is finally going our way.”

“Oh, uh, Grunkle Dipper?” Stanford looked up at him. “Now that we have a moment, I’ve been meaning to ask you for my scrapbook back.”

“Huh? Scrapbook?” he echoed. “What…? Oh!” He looked around for a bit before pulling it out from under the desk. “You mean this old thing! Right?”

“I- yeah. So, you’re giving it back to me? Just like that?”

Dipper shrugged. “Yeah, of course! …is there a reason why I shouldn’t?”

“Eheh! No.” Stanford shook his head and put the scrapbook away. “You, uh, seemed upset about it.”

Grunkle Dipper waved his hand. “Don’t take it personally, Ford! We were having a rough day. Now with Gideon out of the way, I can trust you with that.”

“Um, okay. Thank you!” Stanford took Stanley’s hand and ran up the stairs.

 

Once they were in their room in the attic, Stanford let go of his brother and locked the door, pulled down the blinds, and turned around a monster figurine on the dresser so that it wasn’t facing them. He finished by turning on the electric lamp.

“Stanley, we need to talk. Almost losing my scrapbook made me realize that we’re halfway through the summer, and we’re  _still_  no closer to figuring out the big mysteries of Gravity Falls!” He looked at a cork board pinned with pictures and objects all relating to the town, Gideon, the scrapbook, Space Shack, and Bill. “Gideon almost destroyed the town to get his hands on this scrapbook. But  _why?_ ” Stanford, scrapbook held tight in his hands, paced around the bedroom. “Who wrote it? Where are the other scrapbooks? What was Bill talking about when he said ‘everything was going to change’?” He stopped pacing and turned to Stanley. “There’s something  _huge_  going on  _right_  under our noses. It’s time to stop goofing around and get to the bottom of it.”

Stanley shook his head. “Bro, we’ve looked through that thing a million times before. You’ve been studying it all summer. There’s literally nothing left to discover. Half the pages are blank, remember?” He gestured to the scrapbook.

Stanford turned to about the halfway mark of the book where pages were empty and sighed. “Yeah, I know. Urg! It feels like I’m missing just  _one_  puzzle piece! We’re one clue away from discovering the secrets of Gravity Falls!”

Stanley perked up. “Did you hear that?”

Outside, a jet black, long car pulled into the Space Shack parking lot. “US GOVERNMENT” was written along the sides with an eagle wielding a magnifying glass symbol under it. The license plate, reading “USEXEMPT” with the smaller words “GOVERNMENT ISSUE” under it glinted in the light. A red sticker labeled “HONK IF YOU WANT TO BE ARRESTED” stuck to the bumper. Two men in perfect black suits and sunglasses stepped out of the driver and passenger seat and turned to the Space Shack.

Maria looked out the window. “Mr. Pines? I see a government vehicle in the parking lot.”

“Wait, what?” Grunkle Dipper ran to the window and looked outside. “Government vehicle?” His eyes went round and he shut the window. He raced to one end of the store and clicked a button. “I’m sorry, but the Space Shack is now closing. Please move out! Leave any unpurchased items here! Now!” The crowd shuffled out.

Stanley and Stanford ran down the stairs. “Grunkle Dipper, what’s happening?” Stanford asked.

Stanley nodded. “Yeah, you never shut down the gift shop early.”

Dan and Fiddleford wandered into the middle of the gift shop next to Maria. Grunkle Dipper fidgeted with his bow tie.

The doorbell rang and a knock came at the door.

Grunkle Dipper opened the door with a welcoming smile. “Welcome to the Space Shack, gentlemen! Can we get you anything?”

The two men took out their IDs. The sandy blonde on the left didn’t move a muscle out of place. The dark haired one with a goatee stated, “My name is Agent Powers and this is Agent Trigger.” They put away their IDs. “We’ve come here to investigate reports of mysterious activity in this town.”

Agent Trigger agreed in a tight voice, “Activity!”

Grunkle Dipper chuckled. “Mysterious activity? At the Space Shack? You’re joking!”

Agent Powers stared at him with a straight face. “I assure you I am not. I was born with a rare disorder that made me physically incapable of experiencing humor.” Grunkle Dipper tried to speak, but choked on his own words.  “Now if you’ll excuse us, we are conducting an investigation.”

Grunkle Dipper stepped aside as the two men walked in. Agent Trigger narrowed his eyes and pointed at him. “Investigation.” He followed his partner into the gift shop.

“Wait!” Stanford raced up to Agent Powers. “Did you guys say you’re investigating the mysteries of this town?” Grunkle Dipper’s eyes went wide.

Agent Powers stated, “That information is classified.” He got down on one knee so that he could see Stanford at eye level. “But, yes. Look. Between you and me, I believe there is a conspiracy of paranormal origin all connected to this town. We’re just one small lead away from blowing the lid off this entire mystery.”

Stanford grinned and set a hand on his head. “I’m investigating the exact same thing! I found this book in the woods which has almost all the answers. If we work together, we could crack the case!”

Agent Powers looked back at Agent Trigger. Agent Trigger didn’t move an inch to give away any emotion or decision. Agent Powers looked at Stanford. “If you have any evidence of this claim,” Agent Powers took out a card and gave it to Stanford. “-we should talk.” The plain white card was dominated by an eagle with the magnifying glass in a circle sign. “AGENT POWERS” was written under that with a phone number. Agent Powers stood up.

“We could talk right now!” Stanford offered and then waved his hand. “P-please, Come in! I have  _so_  much to show you–!”

Grunkle Dipper chuckled and put a hand on Stanford’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, agents. The kid has a huge imagination. If there was anything I could help you with, I won’t hesitate to give that number a call. But this sort of stuff–aliens and paranormal activity–are spooky stories told to scare children into going to bed on time.”

“We have other spots to investigate,” Agent Powers stated. “We’ll be on our way.” He turned and walked off.

Agent Trigger swiped an armful of alien spacecraft bobbles. “I’m confiscating this for evidence.”

“Smart move,” Agent Powers complimented as they left.

Stanford gasped. “Wait! No, we have so much to talk about!”

Grunkle Dipper tightened his grip on the kid’s shoulder when he tried to run off. “Hold it, kiddo.” Stanford stopped and looked up at him. Grunkle Dipper let go of him and leaned on the vending machine, which up until that point was open a crack. “Trust me on this, the last thing you want at a party are the police. Now, I’m confiscating that card.” He plucked the card out of Stanford’s hands. Stanford gasped. “Now, go off and be a normal kid for a while, ‘kay? Skip a stone, flirt with a girl, I dunno.” He picked up a cardboard box labeled “Contraband Box”, dropped the card in it, and walked into the living room.

“B-but Grunkle Dipper! You don’t understand!” Stanford tried running after him.

“And don’t go talking to those agents!” Grunkle Dipper warned. The door to the living room swung shut behind him.

Stanford sighed and took out the scrapbook. “That could have been my big break!”

“Bro, maybe Grunkle Dipper is right,” Stanley offered and took the scrapbook from him. He opened It to a random page, which was over zombies. “We’re throwing a  _party_  tonight, man! Can’t you go one night without looking for aliens or raising the dead?”

“I’m not going to raise the dead,” Stanford reassured him. “I just need a chance to show those agents this scrapbook!”

Fiddleford walked up beside him. “That can wait until tomorrow, right, Ford? Let’s get stuff ready for the party.”

Dan smirked. “’sides, that stuff he said about being a kid is good advice. Enjoy it while you can. Man, I’d kill to be a kid again. Heh.”

“Mr. Pines is right,” Maria agreed. “We should prepare the  _fiesta._ ”

 

Nighttime fell over them. Decorations sprang over the entirety of the yard. Streamers flew from place to place. Glitter and silly string and confetti littered the ground and stage. Fiddleford adjusted a bowl of nachos on the table. Stanley played with something a few feet away from the stage.

Grunkle Dipper looked over the karaoke machine. He traded his trench coat for a blue vest and his silver shirt for a red one. “And the karaoke machine has all the best songs! ‘We Built This Township on Rock and Roll,’ ‘Danger Lane to Highway Town,’ ‘Taking Over Midnight’ by &ndra!” He continued to search through the list, mumbling under his breath.

A few yards away, Dan finished hanging up a black light above the party posters Stanford just set up. Dan laughed. “Hey, Ford! Check it out! This blacklight makes my teeth look scary.” He grinned and turned on the black light. Although most of his face dimmed under the hard purple light, his teeth glowed. “Come on, Ford! You love it.”

Stanford sighed and shook his head. “It’s just not fair. I finally meet someone who can help crack this mystery, and Grunkle Dipper took away their card. He’s just being paranoid  _as usual._ ”

Dan looked about and lowered his voice. “Okay, so, I know I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I’m pretty sure Dipper hides pretty much everything in his room.”

Stanford rested his elbow on one hand and set his chin in the other. “If I do that, I could get in a lot of trouble.”

Dan nodded. “You’re right. You would.” He set a party hat on Stanford’s head. “That’s what risks are for.”

 

Maria finally set up the last piñatas, which were shaped like stars, in a pyramid on a table. “The kids will have a lot of fun with these.”

Susan hopped around the table. “Oooh! When do we get to break those open?”

“Tonight. Have patience, Susan!”

“Susan! Hey!” Fiddleford abandoned the fully set up table and met her. Stanley looked up from his horsing around with the decorations and met them.

“Hey!” Susan greeted, a smile on her features. “Your great uncle really went out on this party.”

Stanley nodded. “Totally. I didn’t know he had it in ’im.”

 

 Outside, in the parking lot, cars parked and people filtered in. Toby, walking in front of the teens, looked about. “Aw, I thought this was going to be a rave.”

Daryl smirked. “Then take off your shirt and make it a rave!”

“I’ll do anything for your approval!” Toby yelled and took off his shirt and jacket. A green glow stick patted his chest. Greg’s phone flashed. “Aw, hey…”

“I promise I won’t send it to anyone.” Greg pressed a button labeled “SEND ALL”.

Grunkle Dipper sat at the ticket stand, taking in money as it was given to him.

“Tough Girl” Wendy lugged two giant kegs of meat over her shoulders. “These kegs are full of  _meat!_ ”

Gordy handed Grunkle Dipper money, though he kept his gaze on his phone and laughed. “Greg sends me the craziest texts!”

Grunkle Dipper set the money in the box on the table. “The whole town is showing up!” His smile fell a bit. “And no sign of those agents… guess that talk threw ’em off… Dan! Ford! How are those posters coming along?” Grunkle Dipper yelled and turned to the mostly tacked up posters and black lights. No one was there. Grunkle Dipper narrowed his eyes.

 

Dan and Stanford stopped in front of Grunkle Dipper’s door. It was painted like the gift shop and the outside of the Shack- deep blue and speckled white. “DIPPER’S ROOM” was scrawled on a sign tacked to the wall. “No minors!” scrawled on the part of the door underneath of it. A picture of Stanley was tacked to the door. “That includes you!” A “DO NOT DISTURB” sign hung on his doorknob.

Dan looked down at Stanford. “I’ll keep an eye out for Dipper, okay? You, uh, go rifle through his old man stuff.”

Stanford nodded and opened the door. He tried to go inside. However, an invisible force seemed to push him back. The realization that he’d never done anything explicitly against orders struck him. Stanford had always been obedient and had always stuck to the rules. Rules were put in place for a reason- even if he disagreed with them. Stanford had a sneaking suspicion Stanley would be more than happy to sneak into Grunkle Dipper’s room, regardless of purpose.

Stanford gritted his teeth and walked inside. He gently shut the door behind him. The room was a bit… weirder than he expected someone like Grunkle Dipper would be like. It was messy, which was expected. Pictures of ghosts hung by pictures of family. Dipper throughout the years was with Stanford’s great grandparents and a girl who looked quite a bit like him. A pig wandered through a few old pictures. Newer ones of Stanford and Stanley hung near the door. Ghost hunting books and posters lay on desks and half-open drawers. A pink fresco of rainbows, kittens, and pigs had been mostly hidden underneath of the posters.

Boxes labeled “crafting supplies”, “shirts”, “pants”, “DVDs”, and anything else were stacked up to one side. The blanket from his half-made bed spilled onto the floor.

“Alright, Grunkle Dipper, where did you hide that card?” Stanford pulled out a drawer. A camera along with stray wires, supplies, and a BABBA disk clinked within. “Nope.” He opened a closet, which was packed full of suits and overcoats. Pants and skirts were there as well. A deep blue sweater with what looked like a tree lay on a box. A few pair of shoes lined the bottom. Interesting, not what he was looking for. “Nothing.” He opened a drawer with a few colored martial arts belts. “Nothing.” Stanford opened a treasure chest full of tapes, books, and a half-covered “Fully Clothed Women” magazine. “Ew. Okay, pretending I didn’t see that.”

Stanford stopped in front of a framed picture of Grunkle Dipper. This Dipper had brown hair streaked gray and had a rather old looking grayish brown cat on his lap. His brown-tipped tail fell over Dipper’s arms. Dipper set a hand on his back and smiled.

“Wait a minute…” Stanford’s eyes crossed over to the edge of the picture. It wasn’t adjacent to the wall. He slid his fingers under the painting and pulled back. This revealed a metal cubby just big enough to hold the “Contraband Box”. A nail filer, hand cuffs, and playing cards stuck out of it as well as various toys and even a sling shot. Stanford slid the box out of its cubby and plucked the card out from inside. “Yes! Got it!”

He immediately put away the box, ran to the nearest phone, and picked it up. He referenced the card a few times in order to tap in the correct phone number. “Agent Powers,” Agent Powers stated through the phone.

“Hello! This is Stanford- the kid from the Space Shack. I have that book I wanted to show you!”

“And you’re certain this ‘book’ will help our case?” Agent Powers prompted.

“I’m a hundred percent positive,” Stanford stated.

“Very well. We’re on our way,” Agent Powers stated.

Grunkle Dipper put a finger on the switch hook, which caused the machine to think the phone was on it and thus ended the call. Stanford gasped and spun around. Grunkle Dipper, one hand on his hip and the other on the phone, narrowed his eyes at him. Suddenly, Stanford didn’t feel so confident.

“Sorry, Ford,” Dan, standing behind Grunkle Dipper, held up his phone, which showed Toby shirtless. “I got distracted.”

“Kid, why did you call those agents? If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times:” he took the phone from Stanford. “-there’s nothing ‘supernatural’ going on in Gravity Falls.” The phone clicked as Grunkle Dipper hung it up.

“Yes, there is!” Stanford argued. “After everything that’s happened, you  _have_  to know that by now!”

Grunkle Dipper sighed and pinched his nose. “Look, all I know is that your obsession is going to get us  _all_  in trouble one of these days.” He pointed to the door. “Now go enjoy the rest of the party,” he picked him up by the scruff of his jacket and pushed him outside. Dan immediately sped-walked away from his room as well. “-because after it’s over, you’re grounded. Dan, don’t you run away just yet.” Dan winced and looked back. “Stanford gets these crazy ideas in his head and I don’t need you making it worse. If I find out you’re helping him into trouble, I’ll make sure you won’t be sticking around here to  _make_  it a next time. Understand?”

“Yes, Mr. Pines.”

“Good. Go help Stanford back outside.”

Stanford walked with Dan outside. Stanford glared back at Grunkle Dipper, though he made no move against him.  _They’re on their way. It’s best to be outside, anyway._

 

Grunkle Dipper watched them go with a heavy, irritated sigh. He tapped his fingers on the door and then stalked into the gift shop. When he knew no one was looking, he tapped in the ‘C’ shaped code, opened the vending machine, and closed it behind himself as he walked in.

 

Stanley waved at people as he passed through the party. People danced around the floor or ate snacks or drank punch. “Old Woman” Chiu danced and snapped her fingers. Tyler, in a suit, leaned on the snack table and held up a cup of punch to Stanley’s passing. Mr. Poolcheck held his arms at his side, slightly bent as he made his elbows nearly level with his shoulders, and kicked his feet out in a dance. Stanly stopped in front of Deputy Lee and Sherriff Nate. They looked about with narrowed eyes. “What’s the problem officers?”

Deputy Lee stated, “We’ve got complaints about the loudest party in town.”

Sherriff Nate went on, “Three words: We want in.”

Stanley nodded his head. “Four words: Welcome to your dreams.”

 

Out in the Space Shack parking lot, the government vehicle rolled to a stop. Agent Powers and Agent Trigger got out and checked their watches.

Stanford raced out into the yard. “I’m so glad to see you. Working together, we can crack all of the big questions of Gravity Falls!” The agents looked at each other. “Trust me, this scrapbook is the lead you’ve been looking for.” He held out Book Three for Agent Powers. The two agents looked over the scrapbook. “I’m thinking of a full-scale investigation. Forensics, researchers, even a helicopter.”

Agent Powers looked through various pages of the book. “Kid, I’d love to believe you, but this just looks like more junk from the tourist traps around here.” He turned the book around so that Stanford could see the page they were on: Leprecorn. “I mean, Leprecorn? I can’t be the only one who thinks that’s not funny.”

Agent Trigger shook his head. “I can confirm. Not funny.”

“No, no, no! It’s real, I swear!” Stanford gasped. “J-just get someone to check it out.”

Agent Powers Gave the scrapbook back to Stanford and walked off with Agent Trigger. “Your uncle was right about that overactive imagination of yours. We’ve got paperwork to do, kid.”

“Boring paperwork,” Agent Trigger agreed.

“WAIT! This book is real!” Stanford cried and flipped through it. “Gnomes, cursed objects, spells…! Listen!” The two agents stopped and turned around. Stanford red from the book, “ _Corpus levitas, Diablo Daminium, Mondo Vicium!_ ” he yelled and raised a fist to the sky. The agents looked about. Then, the ground quaked. The earth split open right under Stanford’s feet. He ran to the Agents and spun around. For the first time, their resolve cracked and their eyes went round in shock and mouths gaped as they saw a zombie crawl out of the green crack in the Earth. “Ha! A zombie! A real, actual, zombie. See? Spooky scrapbook is one hundred percent real. Now can we work together?” Stanford grinned.

Agent Powers gasped, “Mother of all that is holy!”

Agent Trigger turned to him. “What do we do?”

“It’s just  _one_  zombie,” Stanford scoffed and looked at his scrapbook. “Trust me, I see things like this all the time.” The zombie lurched forward and roared. Agent Powers picked up a stone and crushed the zombie’s skull with it to keep it from biting Stanford. Stanford sighed. “Whew. Good thing it was just that one.” The ground shuttered as more cracks appeared and zombies crawled out. The agents’ shock turned into full blown terror. “Oh my gosh!” Stanford squeaked. “You guys can help, right?!”

Agent Powers took a step back, which prompted his partner to do the same. “Kid, we’ve been chasing the paranormal for years, but we have never seen anything like this before!”

“GET DOWN!” Agent Triger shouted. Two zombies bowled them over. More of them dragged the agents away, screaming and howling and struggling all the while.

Stanford could only watch the horrifying scene in open-jawed terror. “Oh my gosh!” He put his hands on his head, inadvertently tearing a few strands of hair out.  _“What have I done?!”_

 

Back at the party, people danced and laughed. The two policeman stood up at the stage. Sherriff Nate started off the rap, “What’s up, mates? It’s Lee and Nates.”

Deputy Lee sang, “Making all that money and getting’ them girls!”

Stanley, grinning ear to ear, held up a microphone. “What do you guys say? Is this party legendary or what?”

The ground shook. The mood dropped quicker than a metal ball through a blanket of tissue paper. The music stopped and the policeman stopped singing as well.

“Heh… what?” Stanley looked about.

“We’re all gunna die!” A man with a handlebar mustache near the back cried and threw his hands up in the air.

“Whoa!” Dan gasped. “I think it’s an earthquake!” He raised his airhorn high and blasted it. “EVERYONE! GET OUT OF HERE! IT’S AN EARTHQUAKE!”

Fiddleford froze up, hands on his head. “Oh no! We’re gunna die!”

Susan grabbed him by the forearm. “Not if I have anything to do about it! Run while you can, Stanley!” With that, she ran away from the Shack, her dumbstruck friend at her heels.

“Wait, no!” Stanley yelled and looked after them.

Stanford, wheezing, ran back to the party, now void of everyone but Maria and Stanley. Stanford stopped in front of Stanley, hands on his knees and gasping for air. Gompers bleated and bounced to Stanford’s side. Stanley glanced at the zombies following Stanford’s trail. He crossed his arms. “Stanford, what’s the  _one_  thing I told you  _not_  to do?”

Stanford looked up at him. “Raise the dead.”

“And what did you do?”

Stanford hung his head. “Raise the dead.”

Maria hobbled to the end of the stage. “Stay back,  _chicos!_  This is about to get intense.” A zombie knocked down a table next to them.

Stanley looked about. “Uh-uh! Don’t panic! Maybe they’re just a really ugly flash mob?” One of them  _was_  wearing a party hat. A zombie swiped at them, causing the kids to duck and run back. Stanford hugged Gompers to his chest.

Maria stepped between them and the zombies, her arms spread wide, her voice cool and serene as ever. It was as if she was talking about a beaver nibbling on their tables rather than a horde of zombies trying to kill them. “Do not panic. Don’t get too close to them. We cannot fight this. You two need to go find Mr. Pines and barricade the house before it’s too late!”

“H-how’s he supposed to help?” Stanford stuttered. “He doesn’t even believe in the super natural!”

“I do not care.” Maria’s voice didn’t lose its cool, unwavering serenity. “Mr. Pines is a good man and will know what to do. Hurry!” In the moment that she looked back, a zombie lunged and bit down on her shoulder. She screamed and shoved the zombie back. The twins stared at her in wide-eyed horror. Maria, a hand on her shoulder, took a step back and looked back at them. As if nothing was wrong, she stated, “Get in the house.” She blinked and shook her head. Her skin had paled a bit within the few seconds of being bitten.

“We have to bring you!” Stanley denied and touched her arm.

Maria jerked out of his grasp. “No! Leave.” She shook his head and gritted her teeth. Then, she calmed. She blinked open her eyes, now void of pupils. “O-or, you could stay here. With us.”

The Stan twins screamed and ran off. Stanley picked up a shovel as he went and Stanford grabbed the karaoke box. “The golf cart!” Stanford gasped and stopped. The zombies knocked over the cart and tore into it. “Oh no.”

“That is unfortunate.” They turned back to see Maria looking at the golf cart. She turned back to the kids. “But good news for me, I suppose?”

“Maria!” Stanford complained.

“Hehe, sorry!”

“Back off!” Stanley hopped onto the porch. He threw a disco ball and swung his shovel at it. A zombie behind Maria swallowed the ball and then roared. Now it, and all the zombies around it including Maria, glowed in different lights.

“Give it up,” Maria stated. “You’re fighting really isn’t that effective.”

 

In the basement, the machine sparked and the lights shimmered. Grunkle Dipper played with a few switches. “Those agents could ruin everything. Darn kid!” He looked at the door to the exit. “He has no idea what he’s messing with.” He picked up Scrapbook One. “He’s stubborn, that’s his problem.” He looked at his reflection in the golden star. “Sorta like me, I suppose.” He smiled and then sighed and set the scrapbook down. He turned back to the control panel. “Ugh! I’ve got too much on my mind to worry about those kids. Let’s see…” Behind him, a security camera showed Stanley and Stanford, with Gompers, running from the zombies.

 

The kids ran around the side of the house, leaped onto the porch, and zoomed in through the giftshop door. Stanley shut the door tight behind him. Stanford set down Gompers and the karaoke machine. “We need to board up the doors. Hurry!” The two worked together piling everything up in front of the door. Most of the objects in the Shack weren’t too big, but there were plenty of heavy objects. Then, the two backed off as the zombies broke through the door, roaring and swiping. They didn’t go far as the things piled up against it blocked them.

Stanley nodded. “That should hold ’em for a while.”

The window crashed open. Maria appeared. “Hey! By the way, I taught the zombies how to get into the fuse box.” She laughed. The Shack lights fizzle out. The stars on the gift shop ceiling glimmered. Maria took a few steps back to allow the zombies through. The children backed up, Gompers bleating and crying at their heels. The door to the living room splintered as a zombie reached through it. Other doors began to fill as more undead stalked through.

“F-Ford! Isn’t there anything about defeating zombies?”

Stanford frantically searched through the scrapbook, now on the brink of tears. “NO! There’s NOTHING in here about weaknesses!” He sighed and put away his book. “This can’t be happening. I wanted answers so bad I put everyone in danger. Now we’re dead, it’s all my fault, and no one can save us!” A zombie swooped down and tore Stanford into the air by his arm. He shrieked and struggled in the zombie’s grasp.

“STANFORD!” Stanley yelled.

Stanford’s heart beat too fast. He never really could empathize with Fiddleford about his fear, about how Fiddleford would go into panics so great he couldn’t keep himself up. But now, as he was dangling a foot or two in the air by his arm inches away from the jaws of a zombie, Stanford could relate to the painfully fast beating of his heart, shallow breath that brought in no air, and the chilling feel of his fight-or-flight instincts jammed down into ‘flight’ gear.

The zombie’s head exploded with a thunderous  _boom_.

Stanford fell to the ground and was immediately helped up by his brother.

The zombie twitched and about moved when it’s chest was caved in by a large boot. They looked up to Grunkle Dipper, a shotgun in His hands. Green smudged his cheek and his hat was lost. His vest and pants were torn in a few places. He gestured to the twins. “You! Attic!  _Now!”_

“Gr-Grunkle Dipper?” Stanford sputtered.

“I said  _NOW!_ ” Grunkle Dipper snapped. The kids and Gompers fled. Grunkle Dipper backed up through the doorway. “Alright, you undead jerks, are you ready to die  _twice?_ ” The shotgun went off another few times before a zombie tore it out of his hands and snapped it. It went off one last time, obliterating another zombie’s head as it did so.

Grunkle Dipper picked up a baseball bat and swung it at the nearest zombie, backing up all the while. “You’ve died once, I’ll kill you again!” He knocked a few more heads off as he backed into the entrance room. “Take that! And that!”

The kids flew up the flight of stairs. Grunkle Dipper backed up until he blocked the stairs.

“Eat it, no-eyes!” he snarled and took off the heads of two more zombies before a third bit through the bat and snapped it in half. He kicked it straight in the forehead. The zombie fell back into a few more zombies. Grunkle Dipper, now wielding a few rings from the end table, punched another in the face. “ANYONE ELSE WANT A PIECE?!” He continued punching and kicking the zombies that approached as he backed up the stairs. More poured in through the front door. Grunkle Dipper, a look of savage hate chasing away any fear he might have had, roared, “YOU DON’T SCARE ME!” He ran up to the top of the stairs and, with some effort, shoved a grandfather clock down the stairs. This took out quite a few zombies- all of them that were on the stairs and at the foot of it, at least.

They raced into their room and slammed shut the door. The door shuttered as something knocked into it. Stanford and Stanley backed up. Stanley kept a hand on Stanford’s chest and Stanford held onto Stanley’s shoulder. Gompers stayed behind them. The door shuttered again and then opened. Grunkle Dipper stumbled in, coughing. He shut the door and put a hand on his back. “Oh! Ow! Ow. Everything hurts.” He stood up straight, barricaded the door with a chair, and slunk forward to meet the twins.

“Grunkle Dipper!” Stanley cried out. “That was amazing!”

Stanford looked up at him. “Are you alright? Heh heh… well, are least you can’t deny magic exists anymore, right?”

Grunkle Dipper paused. “Stanford, I’ve always known.”

“Wait, what?” Stanford asked.

Grunkle Dipper turned around. “I’m not an idiot, Ford! Of course, this town is weird. What I know about this weirdness is that it’s  _dangerous!_ ” The door cracked as a zombie hand burst through it. The kids yelped, and Grunkle Dipper backed them up so that they were in the center of the room. “I’ve been lying about it to try to keep you away from it!” The window behind them shattered as a zombie burst through it. Grunkle Dipper whipped around and, using both his momentum and strength, kicked the zombie. Its head snapped back as it’s skull fractured, and neck snapped. The zombie fell back into the crowd below. Its head popped off upon hitting the ground. All eyes turned on them. “It looks like I didn’t lie well enough.”

“What do we do?!” Stanley cried. “What do we do?!” Gompers hid under the bed, whimpering and shaking.

Stanford paced about the room. “Well, normally the scrapbook would help us, but there’s nothing in here about defeating zombies!” He stopped and opened the book for them to see. It was on a random page. A black light, turned on as Stanford stepped on a button, glowed over the book. Text that was previously invisible lit up. “It’s hopeless!”

“Ford, look!” Stanley gasped. “The text! It’s glowing in the black light!”

“What?” Stanford flipped the book and then set it on the ground so that the black light shone over it. Stanley and Grunkle Dipper walked up behind him to look over his shoulder. He flipped through the pages, all covered with annotations that glowed in the black light. “All this time I thought I knew all of the book’s secrets…but they’re written in some sort of invisible ink!”

“Invisible ink,” Grunkle Dipper breathed.

“This is it!” Stanford gasped as he reached the page over zombies. Everything was drawn over with invisible ink. “‘Zombies have a weakness! Previously thought to be invincible, their skulls can be shattered by a perfect three-part harmony.’ Three part harmony? How can we create that? I have a naturally high-pitched scream…?”

“I can make noises with my body?” Stanley offered.

Grunkle Dipper shook his head. “Kids, I think you’re missing the  _obvious_  solution.”

 

Zombies flooded the place. As their prey was not in their radar, they ambled mindlessly about, growling and moaning. A mic screeched as Dipper tapped it. “Hello? Hello? Is this thing on?” Zombies left their stations to go out into the front yard. Maria started to leave through the living room when her gaze fell on a broken vase, which spilled ceramic shards everywhere. She picked up a broom and went to work immediately. A zombie growled at her.

Maria looked back. “Oh,  _un momento_. Let me finish this.” Meanwhile, the rest of the zombies gathered outside.

Grunkle Dipper stood with Stanley and Stanford on the roof. He puffed out his chest and held the mic up close. Stanley and Stanford both held mics but stood stiff and tense, ready to bolt if needbe. Grunkle Dipper yelled, “Welcome zombies and gentlemen! I’m Dipper, this’s Ford and Lee!” Grunkle Dipper pointed to the karaoke box. “Hit it!”

The box started playing “Taking Over Midnight” by &ndra. A few silhouettes started dancing on screen before the lyrics rolled up.

Stanley looked over the lyrics as they started to form. “Uh, Grunkle Dipper? Our lives might not be worth this.”

Stanford red off the lyrics, “ _Friday night,_

_“And we’re gunna party ’til dawn._

_“Don’t worry, Daddy,_

_“I’ve got my favorite dress on?!_ ” Stanford covered the mic. “Dipper, this is stupid!”

Grunkle Dipper, with much more enthusiasm than his nephew, sang,  _“Roll in to the party,_

_“The boys are lookin’ our way._

_“We just keep dancin’,_

_“We don’t care what they say!”_

Zombies started climbing the roof. Others stared on in confusion. Grunkle Dipper continued,  _“And all the boys are getting’ up in my face-!_ ” He yelped as a zombie rose up. He kicked it. “Guys! We have to sing together or it  _won’t work!”_

Stanley backed up, singing,  _“Boys are a bore,_

_“Let’s show ’em the door.”_

The other two looked at him and smiled.  _“We’re takin’ over the dance floor!_ ” They sang together.

_“Oh-OH! Girls do what we like!”_  The zombies cried and covered their ears as a shockwave passed over them. A few heads exploded. All of the zombies that had been climbing the roof fell off.

_“Oh-oh! We’re taking over tonight!”_  The three shared a mic and danced to the music.

_“Oh-oh! Girls do what we like!_

_“Oh-OH! We’re taking over tonight!_

_“We’re queens of the di-SCOOO!”_  Zombie heads burst all around them.

_“Oh-oh! Girls do what we like!_

_“Oh-oh! We’re taking over toniiiiiiight!”_  Stanford sang and then gasped as a zombie reached over the lip of the roof they were on.

“Duck!” Stanley ordered. Stanford did as he was told. Stanley, wielding the confetti canon, aimed it at the zombie. It went off, showering the ground with confetti and throwing the zombie head into a punch bowl.

They continued their song, smiling at one another and dancing to the beat of the song, until it finally ended. Once the music tapered out, they looked around to find no more zombies moving. Grunkle Dipper laughed. “Thank you! We’ll be here all night!” The morning sun crested the horizon.

“HA!” Stanley yelled in triumph. “Take THAT zombie idiots!”

The three pumped their fists into the air and chanted, “PINES! PINES! PINES! PINES!”

 

The three gathered in the torn living room. Grunkle Dipper retrieved his pine tree baseball cap and put it on his head. Stanford sighed, “I’m really sorry. I ruined everything.”

Stanley gave him a half smile. “Well, we totally got to kick zombie butt. I didn’t know that was on my summer to-do list until today!”

Grunkle Dipper got down on one knee and put his hands on their shoulders. “Kids, listen. This town is crazy. I need you to  _be careful_. I don’t know what I’d do with myself if I let you get hurt on my watch.” His gaze turned sullen. He shook himself. “I’ll let you hold onto that spooky scrapbook, as long as you promise me you’ll only use it for self-defense and  _not_  go looking for trouble.” He stood up.

Stanford nodded. “Okay, as long as  _you_  promise me that you don’t have any other bombshell secrets about this town.”

Grunkle Dipper crossed his fingers behind his back. “I promise.”

Stanford copied him. “Promise.”

“Man,” Grunkle Dipper sighed. “We have got a lot of zombie damage to clean up.” He looked about. “Where’s my cleaning lady, anyway?”

Maria stumbled into the living room. “Brains!  _Braaaaains!”_  She couldn’t go far as she was caught on the living room seat, which had been flipped over.

“Holy Christ!” On reflex, Grunkle Dipper picked up a chair.

“Wait!” Stanford jumped between them and looked down at his scrapbook. “There’s a page in here about curing zombification. It is going to Take a lot of formaldehyde.”

Grunkle Dipper peeked over his shoulder. “And cinnamon?”

Stanford sighed. “Come on, Maria. Let’s get you fixed up.”

“ _Cerebros!_ ”

“Maria, cut it out,” Grunkle Dipper scolded as he poked her back with a chair.

“Heh! Sorry!”

“I can’t believe it,” Stanford breathed as he walked behind his great uncle. He shined a black light over the scrapbook. “All this time, all of its secrets were hidden in plain sight!” He looked over a tree. In invisible ink, a ladder wrapped around it and spiraled down. “Hiding Spot?” “DANGER!” He smiled. “A whole new chapter of mysteries to explore…”

 

Out in the forest, Agent Powers and Agent Trigger dragged themselves out of a ditch. Agent Trigger wheezed, “That was insane! I’ve never seen anything like it! Who do we report to?” He turned to Agent Powers.

Agent Powers tore a zombie skull off his suit. The teeth had torn through the suit, but not the vest underneath. He watched as it disintegrated in his hand. “This is bigger than we imagined. We need to bring in the big guns.”

“But they’ll never believe us!” Agent Trigger sputtered.

“Then we’ll  _make_  them believe us,” Agent Powers stated.

 

EPUZX KWSIBPA YBKP IXL T WQMOM TV ZOX OIXR.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very interesting. I think that’s an appropriate word. Goodness, I must’ve written this half a dozen–a dozen–times until I found the right fit. Newly zombified Maria/Fiddleford/Dan took me a while to think about. Eh, I thought it more appropriate for Maria to be the zombified one, though it was a huge toss up with Dan and Fiddleford. Really, that boy gets the short end of the stick too much, so I decided against it. Eventually, I came to the conclusion that Maria hasn’t been in enough action.
> 
>  
> 
> 5: _Nit Aapg Lpgo i Tlp Hie ah Sqjl, hc Eose Epkpk Qwrsr Wmgk mz Ctmhcmylxy Kuulpyalgnm?_


	2. Into the Bunker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kids have found a new mystery to uncover, this time with the adde **d** bonus of being the Author’s hidden lair. Is this the place the author made the scrapbooks, or may the author very well be hiding, afraid of the world?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find the Title Card on dA:

Faint, cloudy sunlight filtered in through a window in the squat log cabin on the outskirts of town. A crystal heart refracted a beam of sunlight and sent scattered shards of rainbows across the room. Dan and Stanley sat together on the foot of Dan’s bed with a large, shared bowl of popcorn. The TV in front of them turned to life as it played a zombie horror movie.

Up to that point, the woman on the black-and-white screen clung to the high school football player beside her as a horde of zombies slowly approached them.  _“What do we do, Chadley?”_  she asked. A boom mic appeared just inside of the shot.  _“I thought they were dead!”_

 _“No! Far worse, Trixandra!”_  Chadley announced.  _“They’re… Nearly Almost Dead But Not Quite!”_

 _“NEARLY ALMOST DEAD BUT NOT QUITE!”_  The screen turned white with the scratched in words. Tiny words stated at the bottom: “A good enough picture by MXMLMLMXML” A dark splatter splashed across the screen, underneath of the words so they stayed visible.

“You know, these movies are a lot less scary when you fought real zombies,” Stanley scoffed as the woman screamed.

“Hey! They’re slow!” Dan said to the TV. “Just power-walk away from them!”

“Oh!” Stanley snickered and elbowed Dan. “How much you wanna bet  _that guy_  dies first?”

Well, there was a chomping noise on the TV followed by Chadley’s exclamation,  _“Aah! My face is being eaten a lot!”_  Dan and Stanley laughed.

Immediately, Dan snickered, “Chadley isn’t pretty anymore!” His phone buzzed. “One sec.” He fished his phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. “Ugh,” he groaned. “Another text from Janice.”

“That… Oh, right. Janice. So, how’s that situation going?” Stanley prompted and then stuffed a handful of popcorn in his mouth to prevent himself from speaking further.

“Bah.” Dan huffed, “I’m over her. I just wish she was over me. What are these texts? Look at this! Winky frown? What does that even mean?” He showed him the screen of his phone, where a picture of Janice with her hoodie on in the rain was flanked by a semi-colon-left-parenthesis.

 _Really?_  “Wow.” Stanley spoke as soon as he swallowed the excessive amount of popcorn he’d eaten. “That’s… So, I was wondering if you wanted to join Stanford and I on this mystery hunt tomorrow? You know, conspiracy stuff and all that.” He waved his hand with a shrug.

“Oh, yeah, man.” Dan put away his phone. “I love doing stuff with friends.” He turned to the TV. “Chadley, watch out!” A scream came from the TV, causing them to laugh and roll their eyes.

 

Keen to see the Shack put back into shape, Grunkle Dipper stood outside the Space Shack. In the heat of the day, he wore his white tank top and blue pants. He watched as the construction crew he’d hired pulled everything up to their normal positions. “Easy with that!” he called to a crane pulling the totem pole up. “It’s genuine plastic! Also, repave the cracks in the parking lot.” He looked over a large crack in the pavement. “I don’t want my car falling into China!” Grunkle Dipper turned around. “Now, where did those kids go?”

 

Eventually, out in the forest, Stanley, Stanford, and Fiddleford Stood by the metal tree that had held the lever to Scrapbook Three. Stanford held up his lantern and tapped it. “Okay, everyone! Thank you for coming!”

“Look, dude, I wouldn’t miss this for anything.” Stanley smirked.

At once, Fiddleford nodded with a wide grin. “You can always count on me ta help!”

Stanford set the lantern on a tree stump and took out Scrapbook Three. He showed it to them, the picture of the metal tree page showing. “We’re here to solve the number one mystery in Gravity Falls: who wrote this scrapbook? Thirty years ago, the author vanished without a trace. But according to this new clue-” He took out a black light and turned it on the page. A spiral staircase attached to it spun down. “-we may have found his secret hiding place. We find that author, we learn the answers to  _everything._ ” He put away the journal and blacklight and then took a step back to look up at the tree. “We just need to find a way inside.”

“Then chop it down!”

They turned around to see Dan ride out of the trail on his bike. He propped it up against a tree and then traded his helmet for his bomber hat.

Immediately getting over his surprise, Stanford smiled. “Dan!”

“Man!” Stanley grinned. “You made it!”

“Eh-heh! Yeah, I’m so excited about this.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and wandered over to them. “I’ve been wanting to go adventuring with you guys.”

“We can use all the help we can get!” Stanford answered with a tight nod. “So, this is where I found the journal.” Stanford pointed to the tree, where the compartment door holding the machine was open. He led Dan over to it.

Fiddleford took a few steps back to give them room. Stanley wandered over to Fiddleford. “Soo, what’s happening?”

Fiddleford looked back at him. “Oh, Ah was just tryin’ to find something new about this here tree. Maybe find an entrance or somethin’.”

“You know that’s not what I was talking about.” Stanley elbowed him with a broad, toothy grin.

Fiddleford glanced about him. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Okay, whatever.” Stanley shrugged. “Guess I’m just bein’ dumb thinking about how stupid fast you agreed to go with us to find a secret bunker with Stanford underground without anyone else around here.” Stanley’s grin just wider as he drew out the desired reaction.

Fiddleford ran his fingers through his hair and broke eye contact with Stanley. “O’ course Ah’d come with. Ah like this whole mystery business. Besides, we’re partners.”

“In more ways than one, eh?” Stanley snickered. Fiddleford turned away from him, but not before he saw the pout and pinkness that came to his cheeks. “Dude, my bro’s not some sort of monster. Confessin’ll make you feel better.”

Dan looked up at one of the branches. A few bolts surrounded it. “Hey, is it just me, or does that look like a lever?”

The other three boys looked up. Stanford nodded. “Oh. It kind of does. But how are we going to get up there? It’s pretty high up.”

Dan took of his belt and snapped it over the side of the tree. The other end it whipped around the tree, where it caught it in his other hand. Then, tangling his hands on each end, he pulled it back, set his feet on the tree, and scaled it. Once he got the lever, he tied the belt around himself, took out his ax, and bonked the branch. It flipped down. He looked down at them. “Like that.”

“Whoa!” The boys gasped.

Dan put his ax back in a sheath on his pants. “Yeah, my mom has the whole family participate in lumberjack games. I’m pretty much a master. Wait, what?” The tree shuttered and sunk. Dan’s foot slipped and the belt snapped out of its position. Dan yelled as he plummeted to the ground and landed on a bush below. The three kids ran to his side as the tree, and a small area around it including the bush Dan was on, sunk down. Dan scrambled back and stood up. They watched as, after a few yards, it stopped sinking. Metal-lined planks popped out of the side down in a makeshift spiral staircase. A door in the tree opened.

Stanford turned to them. “Alright, remember: whatever happens down here, we tell  _no one._  Understand?” Stanley put a hand to his head. Dan zipped his lips. Fiddleford nodded and gave a thumbs up. Stanford smiled and held up his lantern. “Now, who wants to go first?”

Stanford ended up being the first to go down, with Fiddleford straight behind him. Stanley looked about with round eyes. Dan stayed guard at the rear, his sharp eyes taking in every detail and returning to kids every few seconds.

Once they entered, they Had to stop at the entrance to admire the scene before them.  _“Whoa!”_  Stanley breathed.

“Amazing,” Stanford agreed.

“What is this place?” Fiddleford looked about at the machines, pipes with valves, shelves, and cabinets. A cot lay to one side.

“Whatever it is, it’s old,” Dan looked at the cobwebs and the thick layer of dust over everything. “And stupid cool.”

“This has to have belonged to the author,” Stanford stated as he looked around, his lantern held up. He glanced at the “FALLOUT SHELTER” metal sign with a gas mask next to it.

Dan took the sign and dusted it off. “This is going over my bed.”

Stanley stuck his face in a barrel and then straightened up. Caterpillars inched over his face. He laughed, “My face feels fuzzy!”

“This is incredible!” Stanford exclaimed and looked over a bookcase packed tight with boxes of preserved food. “He was preparing for a disaster. But what kind of disaster would need supplies for over  _sixty years?_ ”

Fiddleford opened a weapons locker. His eyes went round as he inspected the tools within. “These are  _ancient!_ ”

Stanford picked up an empty bean can on the floor. “Wait, guys, I think this can was opened recently!” He held up the can, which was empty of beans but had a slimy substance within.

Fiddleford grinned. “The author might still be alive, down here!”

Dan inspected an old, dusty map of Gravity Falls from 1982. “Wait a minute…” he pulled down the map. Stanford winced as it tore in places. A partially opened, round hatch labeled “WARNING” “STAY OUT” opened completely. Dan crawled inside. Everyone else immediately followed suit. “Whoa.” He opened another hatch and lead them into a room covered from wall to wall, ceiling to floor, with squares, some of them bearing odd symbols. “Man, was this built in the past or the future?”

Fiddleford shrunk into himself. “This place is creepy.”

Stanley hopped inside. “Yeah, man! That author must have been wicked… cool…” He looked down as his foot sank a few inches into the ground. The pressure plate he stepped on glowed. Suddenly, every symbol in the room glowed red. The squares slowly pushed out. An alarm buzzed. The hatch shut and locked itself.

Fiddleford looked about. As the walls pressed in, he began to hyperventilate. “What’s going on?! Are the walls closing in? Are you guys seein’ this?!”

Although they attempted to press against the walls, nothing they did changed anything in the slightest. “It won’t stop!” Dan heaved as he pushed on a square with all his might- which was quite a lot.

“Ford! What do we do?!” Stanley turned to him.

Stanford took out the scrapbook and flipped through the pages until he got to a picture of the symbols. He took out the black light and it glowed over the symbols needed to deactivate the trap. “Everyone! Press these symbols!”

Fiddleford pounced on one on the ground. “One!” It glowed blue.

“Two!” Dan punched one in the wall. It turned blue.

Stanley hopped up and slapped one on another wall. “Three!” The symbol became blue.

Stanford looked about until he found one on the roof. He raced up and pressed it before another square blocked his way. He could see its blue shine for only an instant before it was covered up. “Four!”

A door on the far side hissed as machines unlocked it and pushed it open. Stanley pointed to the door. “RUN!”

They needn’t be told twice before evacuating the room. A few hairs on Stanford’s head along with his jacket got caught on the blocks as he went. He shrugged it off in an instant.

“Oh my gosh.” Fiddleford put a hand to his chest and another on his knee. “We almost died!”

Dan punched Stanford. “You saved our hides back there!”

Stanford smiled and patted Fiddleford on the shoulder. “It’s okay. We made it out.”

Fiddleford smiled and straightened himself out. “Thank ya.”

Stanley took Stanford’s jacket out of the wall and tossed It to him. “There you go.”

“Thanks.” Stanford put it back on and fluffed it out so that it wasn’t creased or inside out in places.

Stanley picked up a few vials, put them over his eyes and turned around. “Check it out! Science-binoculars!”

Dan laughed and looked over the place lined wall-to-wall with machines and a desk.

Stanford pressed a button and opened a door to the closet.  “Oh, wow! Would you look at that. It’s empty. Hey, Fiddleford! What do you think?”

Fiddleford joined him by the closet and looked over the buttons next to it. “Ah don’t know. It looks like a closet… but why is it empty?”

Stanley ran over to Fiddleford and put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, Fidds?”

“Yeah?”

“You know I’m your best friend, right?”

“…yes?”

“Well, love hurts.” Stanley shoved him into the closet and slammed a button next to it to shut the door.

Fiddleford gasped and pounded on the door, “STANLEY!”

“Stanley!” Stanford knocked on the door. “What the heck?”

“Let us out!”

Stanley leaned against the door. “Oh, sure. I’ll let you out. Just tell Ford what you’ve been wanting to tell him.”

 _“What?”_  Fiddleford glared at the door. “Ah’m serious, Lee!”

“What’s he talking about?” Stanford turned to Fiddleford. They couldn’t see each other in the pitch black.

“He just likes messin’ with us,” Fiddleford replied.

“That’s besides the point,” Stanley scoffed.

“Where are the lights?” Stanford reached up and pawed at the air. A cord touched his fingers. He pulled it. They screamed as water poured over them from the ceiling. A blast of hot air pushed them into each other. A red light flashed above them. “DECONTAMINATION COMPLETE” flashed over them. The other wall turned out to be a door, which opened to allow them passage.

The two looked about the broken lab. There were quite a few giant tubes. One of them above a broken control panel had shattered. Nearby, a barred cage had busted open. Elongated ceiling lights, like those in the Dusk-2-Dawn convenience store, hung on thick, long cables and sent white light over everything.

“A secret lab…” Stanford breathed as he walked inside. “The author must have done experiments down here.”

Fiddleford’s gaze traveled over the giant holes in the wall. Some lined the bottom, but quite a few riddled the walls up to the natural stone ceiling like a wasp nest. “What do you suppose made those tunnels?”

“Let’s hope we don’t find out,” Stanford stated, though he couldn’t fight off a small smile. He put a hand on his notebook, ready to pull it out if necessary. The creatures they could find down here would be–

A screechy roar echoed out of one of the tunnels. All thoughts on a really cool monster chase vanished from Stanford’s mind. The two screamed and ran for the door. “Stanley!” Stanford yelled. “Let us out!”

“There’s a monster in here!” Fiddleford agreed.

From the other side of the door, they could hear Stanley clicking his tongue. “Oh  _please_. The only monsters here are your own inner demons.”

“What the heck?!” Stanford growled and then took out his notebook. “Fine. Come on, Fiddleford. If Stanley’s going to be a jerk, we’ll find our own way out.”

“A-are ya sure?” Fiddleford squeaked but, as Stanford ran off, didn’t hesitate to follow him.

The two ran into a corner.

“Now what do you propose we do?” Stanford’s tone got a dry note to it. “My brother can be obnoxious, and scary if he wants to be, but he’s no human-eating monster.”

“L-look, Ah don’t know.” Fiddleford stopped speaking as the monster shrieked.

The light from the lab cast the monster’s shadow into the wall. A man appeared and, facing the monster as if he’d done it a million times before, tore the monster’s tongue out. The thing crumbled and fled. “Back! Back you heinous beast!” The man’s voice was gravely and quite rough.

The two boys glanced at each other and then the shadow of the man. The trench-coat wearing man stepped out of the shadows. His goggles flashed in the light. In his black-gloved hands was a creature’s tongue. “Well, I just ripped out a monster’s tongue.” He threw it on the ground before them.

Fiddleford took a step back, pressing his back against the wall. Stanford watched him in wonder. “It’s you!”

The man waved his hand. “Hurry now, I scared it off, but it’ll regenerate.” Stanford grabbed Fiddleford’s wrist and followed the man. The man continued, “I wasn’t expecting guests. I’ve been down here for a very long time.” He stopped and turned to them. “Years! Weeks, maybe! I miss orange juice.”

“You don’t understand, you’re him! You’re the guy we’ve been looking for!” Stanford wheezed.

Fiddleford looked at Stanford. “He’s the guy?”

“He’s the guy!”

“The guy?” the man prompted.

Stanford nodded and fiddled with his fingers. “I’ve got  _so_  many questions! Why did you make the scrapbooks? Who was after you? Why did you build this bunker? Why’s your voice so harsh? Why’re the scrapbooks pink?”

“Heh, my boy, I’d love to discuss this in time. We have more pressing matters.” The man set a hand on his shoulder before turning and walking into the broken lab. “It’s one of my experiments, a shape shifter. Able to take the form of anyone or anything it sees. It broke free from a cage of solid steel!” He stopped and gestured to the broken cage. “I’ve gone half crazy trying to catch the creature alone. But now you’re here!” He got down on one knee, pulled back his goggles, and set a hand on Stanford’s shoulder. “Will you help me catch it?”

Stanford gasped, his eyes going round and a great smile lighting up his features.

 

Inside of the fully intact lab, Dan and Stanley fiddled with a few things. Dan attempted to put on a lab coat, but ultimately shrugged it off as it was made for someone half his size. He picked up a suitcase. “Heh. This thing’s new. Pretty heavy. Do you think we should take it back?”

“Definitely!” Stanley chuckled. “Man, they’re going to love it! They sure are taking a while.”

“Dude, you locked them in there.”

“If they wanted to come out, they’d tell me.” Stanley waved his hand with a “pfft” and turned to a monitor. It was pointed to the many tubes in the broken lab. “Oh! What’s this?” He pressed a red button. A tube sputtered to life and glowed. “Frozen? Cool.” He pressed the button again. “Unfrozen! Frozen… unfrozen!” He looked down at a lined piece of paper on a clipboard. “What’s this? Experiment #210: ‘THE SHAPESHIFTER’.”

“Shape shifter?” Dan echoed. “Uh, Lee? Didn’t they say something about a monster in there with them?”

Stanley gasped, “I thought he was joking!”

“YOU KNOW THEIR JOKES ARE TERRIBLE!”

“STANFORD!” Stanley exclaimed.

 

“Come in, come in!” the man brushed back a tattered blanket separating the mouth of one tunnel from a wide tunnel cave. Stanford and Fiddleford followed him. Fiddleford inspected a large “H2O” valve on a pipe big enough to hold Stanford. Bean cans littered the ground. “I apologize for the state of things! I don’t get many non-mole-people visitors.” The man stopped. “Now the beast must have some weakness we can exploit. I just wish I had my research on me.” He sighed. “But alas, I lost my scrapbooks so many years ago.”

“Did you say scrapbooks?” Fiddleford prompted.

“I found one of them!” Stanford exclaimed and took out Scrapbook Three. “That’s how I tracked you down here!”

“What?! Could it be?” The man spun around and stared at the pink and glittery scrapbook. He took it from Stanford and admired its cover. “My boy! I can’t express my gratitude!” the man cried. He turned around so that his back faced the boys. He eagerly flipped through the pages within, turning each over to look at the pictures. “Oh, yes, after all these years…”

 

Stanley burst through the door into the broken lab. Dan raced ahead and stopped. “STANFORD! FIDDLEFORD! Ugh, it’s so  _dark!_ ” The long, white lights that had once lit up the area were dark.

Stanley brought out a flashlight. “Leave that to me!” He flicked it on. He ran off into the tunnels. “We’re comin’ for you guys!”

 

The man was now sitting, hunched over the book and studying its contents like a dying dog desperately drinking the last of its water. Stanford sat a few feet away with Fiddleford. “Isn’t this  _amazing?_ ” Stanford breathed. “We’re meeting the author!”

Fiddleford picked up a can of beans and inspected it. Once he flicked a bit of the dirt off, he froze. The can dented a bit in his grip. He squeaked and gave the can to Stanford. He hissed, “ _Stanford! Look!”_

Stanford looked down at the can. The picture of the “author” was stamped on it along with a dog as it was the “HIGH FLYIN’ BEANS” logo. Stanford looked up at Fiddleford and then turned the man holding the box. Stanford stood up and approached the man. Although he attempted to put down his fear, his voice shook a bit. “Actually, you know what? We should probably get going. May I have my scrapbook back?”

The man’s body froze. He turned his head around one hundred and eighty degrees and stared at them, his pupils elongated and lips pulled back to reveal his gums and throat instead of just his teeth. “You aren’t going  _anywhere!_ ” His voice deepened considerably until it was a rumbling gurgle of thunder that didn’t echo. He raced up the wall. Four legs grew out of his body and dug into the ceiling. He morphed out of the High Flyin’ Beans man and into his “true form”- that being a translucent, pale beige-blue creature. He had one giant, thick arm and one long, thin arm. His lower body consisted of four insect legs, two of which ended in crab claws. His round head had an elongated snout ending in four pinchers and six teeth in a round hold of a mouth. His blank purple eyes, void of pupils or whites, stared down at him. Liquid dripped from him. “How do you like my  _true_  form? Go on, admit it: you like it.”

Stanford took a step back, Fiddleford behind him. He pointed up at the creature, who still held the scrapbook. “You! What did you do with the real author?!”

The shape shifter’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll likely never find out. That sparkly nerd hasn’t been the same in thirty years! But I thank you for bringing me this scrapbook.” He opened it. “So many wonderful forms to take.” He licked each picture. In turn, he became that creature. A gremloblin, a gnome, the Hide Behind- he laughed as he gained the form of so many new and dangerous creatures.

“We’ve got to get that back!” Stanford breathed.

Fiddleford nodded. His gaze fell to a bean can. Moving too quick to think, Fiddleford picked up the can. “Hey, shape-shifter!” He chucked the can. “Snatch this!”

The shape-shifter turned into a giant toad with four giant lumps on its back. It shrieked and lashed out at them. Fiddleford and Stanford picked up a stray piece of metal. The shape-shifter’s tongue caught it and then brought it back. It dropped the scrapbook, hissing in pain and rubbing its eyes. Stanford snatched the scrapbook and ran off, Fiddleford’s arm in his hand.

The shape-shifter shrieked and, after morphing into a few different forms, took on that of a giant brown roly-poly with antenna and a giant mouth. It curled into a ball and rolled after them.

Stanford, a Flashlight now in his hands, looked back and their chaser. They stopped as they came to a fork in the paths. Stanford let go of his friend, chucked the flashlight as hard as he could down the right tunnel, and then hid in a crevice in the left tunnel. The shape-shifter hesitated at the fork in the tunnels. When he found the light disappearing to the right, he shrieked in victory and rolled after it.

Without a glance back, Stanford and Fiddleford ran as fast as they could down the left tunnel. Stanford hissed in surprise as a sudden light blinded him. The two ran into two more people, one Stanford’s size and another quite a bit bigger, and fell.

“Dan! Lee!” Fiddleford sighed in relief as he got up.

Stanford hopped to his feet and put a hand on Fiddleford’s chest. “Wait! We don’t know if they’re the shapeshifter!”

Dan looked between them. “How do we prove we’re not?”

Stanley put a hand to his chin. “Hmm… I always thought you were a wimpy nerd, Sixer.”

Stanford nodded and relaxed. “That’s them.”

Stanley took a deep breath. “Okay, what happened?”

“We got attacked by the shape-shifter,” Stanford explained. “It broke out of its cage, pretended to be the author, and led us to its home. Then it took the scrapbook and tried to kill us when we took it back!”

“Imagine what would happen if it escapes into town!” Fiddleford exclaimed. “It could turn into anything- anyone! We’d never trust anyone ever again.”

Stanley bristled, “What do we do?!”

Dan glared in the direction the shape-shifter went. “Well, it tricked you two into its home, tried to take the scrapbook, and then tried to kill you two. We should return the favor.”

 

“Stanford, my boy!” The shape-shifter, now as the beans man, stalked around the broken lab. The light flickered on. He snarled and momentarily lost shape. “I must speak with you!” He roared and turned into a giant, maroon, six-legged monster. His head, shaped like a fist, nearly touched the ceiling. It looked around with large, hard eyes. The gopher teeth stuck out the top jaw while a very large, thick row of human teeth lined the bottom jaw.  _“REVEAL YOURSELF, YOU SINGLE-FORMED HUMAN WEAKLING!”_  He slammed his head into the ground.

Stanford, the scrapbook held loosely in one hand, walked out of the tunnel. Stanley strode beside him. “Man, there sure are a lot of really cool monsters in here!”

The creature’s gaze snapped to them. “There you are! Oh, and with a new one.” He morphed into Stanley. “Should I be one…” He morphed into Stanford. “…or the other? How about  _both?_ ” He turned into a six-legged, hotdog shaped monster whose top half resembled Stanford and bottom half resembled Stanley. Both halves had large mouths with giant, sharp teeth. Both sets of eyes were misted over and white.

The kids screamed and ran down the tunnel. They managed to meet Dan and Fiddleford by the giant “H2O” valve. Stanford yelled, “He’s coming! He’s coming! Now, now, now,  _now!”_

Dan and Fiddleford struggled to turn the valve. Fiddleford stared at the empty, dry hole. “It’s not working!”

The shape-shifter caught up to them. A long, frog tongue snapped out of its top mouth and wrapped around the scrapbook clutched in Stanford’s hand. “Hey! Let go!” Stanford snapped and coiled his arms tighter around the scrapbook.

Dan snarled at him and grabbed the scrapbook. “You leave him alone!” The shape-shifter flicked its tongue back. Dan planted both feet on its middle and took out the ax. For a moment, the creature’s eyes went wide as it stared down at the ax that would soon sever its tongue.

The pipe hissed and shuttered. The three boys stepped back. Stanford yelled, “DAN! WATCH OUT!”

Dan looked back just in time for a tidal wave to shoot out of the pipe at high pressure. All of them, human and shape-shifter alike, were flushed down the tunnel. Dan, Stanford, and Stanley gasped and struggled to stay up. Fiddleford was torn down below the waves.

*          *          *          *          *

Once the water died down and they landed, Stanford got up on his hands and knees. He set a hand to his aching head and looked about. “Where are my glasses? Guys, have you seen my-?” His hand landed on Dan’s ax. When he looked back, he found the giant form of their oldest friend on the ground, shaking at random intervals as he hacked up water. Stanley shuttered and put a hand on his head. Stanford looked about. Where was Fiddleford? Where was the shape-shifter?

Stanford gripped The ax with more strength and ran down the tunnel. When he made it to the lab, he found the drenched form of his friend. He shuttered and coughed. Stanford ran to his side and knelt. “Fiddleford?”

Fiddleford blinked and looked up. His baby blue eyes met Stanford’s. He let out a small cough. Water dripped down his chin as his body, weak from the attack, struggled to get rid of the water in his lungs. “Stanford…?” His voice was thick and cracked.

“Fiddleford!” Stanford breathed. “You’re okay! Right?”

“My throat,” Fiddleford coughed and got up on one elbow. He hacked up a bit more water and put a hand to his throat. “Where’s the scrapbook?”

“I… I don’t know,” Stanford replied.

“F-find it! We should get it away from the shape-shifter,” Fiddleford wheezed. “Maybe there’s somethin’ in there about this.” He gestured to his throat.

“Okay, okay. I’ll find it. Here.” He hooked an arm under Fiddleford’s armpit and struggled to help him up. Fiddleford latched onto Stanford with surprising strength and got to his feet. Stanford wheezed as he helped his friend across the lab and to the door. He didn’t open the door. Instead, he set him down and stood up. “I’ll go look for it. You stay here.”

Fiddleford nodded, gulped, and shifted so that he was more comfortable.

Stanford shambled around the lab. He plucked the ax off the ground as he went. He squinted and looked about in search for the pink and yellow blur that was the probably soaked scrapbook. Stanford froze as he heard a muffled whimper. The boy looked about and crept toward the noise. It got louder as he approached one of the closets. Stanford gripped his ax with more strength and opened the closet. A set of watery, baby blue eyes stared up at him. Bound and gagged in the closet was his best friend. Wordlessly, Stanford knelt and untied him.

Fiddleford spat and wheezed and coughed as the gag was taken out of his mouth. Even then, he hardly speak. He coughed as his body expelled more water.

Stanford patted his shoulder, causing the boy to flinch and shy away from his touch. Stanford retracted his hand. “Fiddleford? Hey, Fidds, it’s okay.”

Fiddleford opened one of his eyes and looked up at Stanford. He sucked in his breath and shut his eyes again. “Wh-where’d it go?” he squeaked.

“By the lab,” Stanford answered. “Oh no. What are we gunna do?”

“We–Ford! Behind you!” Fiddleford yelped. Stanford spun around. Fiddleford-shape-shifter raised a broken pipe and swung down. The real Fiddleford launched himself out of the closet and tackled Stanford. The pipe cracked into the ground. The two boys tumbled a few feet away.

The shape-shifter cackled and picked up Dan’s ax. The two boys, out of breath and tangled together, looked up at the shape-shifter. Fiddleford shut his eyes and pressed his forehead against Stanford’s chest. Stanford shut his eyes and looked away from their killer.

“Yo, ugly!”

They looked up. Stanley, wielding the broken pipe like a bat, swung it. The shape-shifter yelped as he was hit upside the head with a hard  _clang!_  He dropped the ax. The shape-shifter changed into Stanley. He ducked another blow and screamed in Stanley’s voice, “DAN! Hurry! The shape-shifter’s got Ford and Fidds!”

Stanford scrambled to his feet. Fiddleford rolled onto his belly and struggled to get to his feet. The shape-shifter tackled Stanley and threw the pipe out of his hand. They grappled and tumbled over the puddle-riddled ground. When one stood up, the other would trip, shove, or pull him down.

Dan ran to their side. “What’s happening?”

The Stanley on the ground pointed to the one stepping on his stomach. “He’s the shape-shifter!”

The Stanley on top shook his head. “He’s lying! That’s the shape-shifter!”

The one on the ground kicked the other in the back and tore him to the ground by his ear. The two continued to quarrel. That was, until Stanford picked up the ax and shouted, “Stop fighting!”

The two, arms locked together and foreheads nearly touching, looked at him. The first gasped, “The ax! Kill him!”

“No! Kill  _him!_ ” The second hissed. “He’s the shape-shifter!”

“Don’t listen to him!” The first shook his head vigorously.

Stanford gripped the ax with more strength. “I don’t know who’s who! Give me a sign!”

The Stanley on the left didn’t break eye contact with Stanford. “Bro, you’re my best friend and your smart so you should  _know_  he’s the shape-shifter.”

The second Stanley scowled. “You’re a shape-shifter, stupid! No one can tell you apart!” He turned to Stanford. “I locked Fiddleford in the closet with you because I’m an overly pushy jerk and didn’t know what I was getting you two into.”

Stanford looked between them. He took a deep breath, raised his ax, and swung.

The ax sunk into the first Stanley’s stomach. Green, translucent liquid spilled from the wound. He roared, let go of Stanley, and shifted back into his original form. The tube behind him flashed. “READY” blazed in green words above it. The shape-shifter discarded the ax.

Fiddleford waved his hand. “Push him in!” He, Stanley, and Stanford worked together to push the weak and struggling shape-shifter into the tube. Then, the door closed. It nearly took their hands with it. The tube hissed as it froze. In the control room, Dan had slammed his hand down on the red button.

“NO!” the shapeshifter howled. His form changed rapidly. First, he was a giant rock monster bashing the wall of the tube. Then, he was fire monster, desperately trying to fight off the chill. Then, he turned into the beans man. “Let me oooouuuut!” He returned to his original form. His struggles slowed, and mist fogged the glass.

Dan joined them in the broken lab. Dan shook his head. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

They about turned to leave when the shape-shifter’s cackle flowed out of the tube. It hissed and pressed its face and hands against the glass. The four gasped and backed off. “You think you’re so clever, don’t You, Stanford?” The shape-shifter pounded the glass. “But you have no idea what you’re up against! You will  _never_  find the author. If you keep digging, you’ll meet a fate worse than you can imagine. This will be the last form you ever take!” He shifted back into Stanford, his hands raised, eyes wide, and mouth open in a scream so scarily close to Stanford’s he wondered if it had come from him. The shape-shifter froze completely. Stanford stared at it.

Stanley made a sad sound that resembled a laugh. “Good luck sleeping tonight.”

 

The tree rose up behind them as they left the bunker. Stanford sighed. “I’m all adventured out for a while.”

“No kiddin’,” Fiddleford agreed, his voice still shaky. The briefcase Dan had found was clutched in his hands.

Stanley smiled. “But, hey! We’re all total heroes, if you think about it.”

Dan ruffled Stanley’s hair. “How about some hero’s breakfast, eh?” He lifted Stanley up on his shoulders and, bike in one hand, walked down the trail.

“Syrup on cereal!” Stanley chanted.

Stanford started to follow. Fiddleford mumbled something behind him. Stanford turned around. “What?”

Fiddleford didn’t look him in the eyes. Instead, he shrank in on himself and ran his fingers through his hair. He ended up pulling out a few strands of his dirty blonde hair. “Ah’m… sorry, Ford. Ah’m… Ah’m a coward.”

Stanford put a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, that thing tied you up like a lobster. It wasn’t your fault you were taken. Besides, if it wasn’t for your quick thinking, I’d be dead.” Stanford’s small, comforting smile faded as the realization he nearly died lingered in his head.

Fiddleford shuffled his feet. “Well, ya aren’t dead. Yer the one who struck the shape-shifter.” A small, nervous smile crept up on his features. “At least we know not ta trust the first person who knows anythin’ about magic instantly, right?”

Stanford chuckled. “Yeah, I deserve that. Let’s just hope there’s not a next time we meet someone like that.”

“Do… you think we’ll ever meet the author?” Fiddleford tightened his grip on the briefcase.

“Hopefully,” Stanford sighed. “But lately I…  _No_. We have to stay positive. I’m  _positive_  we’ll find the author.”

“Well, duh!”

The two screamed as Stanley popped out from behind them. Fiddleford dropped the briefcase and Stanford raised a hand in a fist.

Once Stanford knew it was Stanley, he groaned, “Ugh! Stanley, don’t do that!”

Stanley crossed his arms. “You’re the jumpy ones.”

“For good reason!”

Fiddleford bent down and picked up the briefcase. It clicked and opened. The three gasped. It was not hollow like a normal suitcase. It was heavy and thick with wires, metal, and tech. A screen dominated the top piece while a busted keyboard laid on the bottom. “PROPERTY OF C” labeled the top piece. “What in the–?”

“It’s not a briefcase!” Stanford exclaimed, “It’s a laptop!”

Stanley nodded. “And a really busted up one, too.”

“This could be our big break!” Stanford laughed. “A laptop! With the author’s information, it has to be!”

Fiddleford looked over the machine. “I think I might be able to fix this thing up. I’ll need a few days… and lots of spare parts… but I think I can manage.”

Stanford hugged Fiddleford and then took a few steps back. “Come on! Let’s go home and get some pancakes or something!” Fiddleford shut the laptop and ran after him.

Stanley put a hand on Fiddleford shoulder. “I guess I shouldn’t be so pushy,” Stanley sighed. “But, hey! We got this! So, uh… take your time, I guess. But remember: we’re running out of summer.” Stanley ran after his brother. Fiddleford slowly nodded and followed.

Stanford rubbed his eyes. “Uh… Stanley? Do you still have your extra glasses?”

“Yeah,” Stanley answered. “I think they fit you? I made a copy of your glasses with that printer since you seem to break them a lot. We can ask Grunkle Dipper to get a new real pair.”

“Thanks, Stanley.”

 

LOM TEB KDQYVF-S-YWT! PMJRA JOCJF BNFC!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very, very suspicious, this shelter. I guess you can call it… shifty! Great, I know! ’Nyway, this chapter was a jerk to write. Especially since I had to torture Fiddleford again and almost drown everyone else. Really, that kid needs a break. Everyone is safe and sound, though.
> 
>  
> 
> 6: _A Dwswcj Owb Mfsa Ktgrspvrxll Bvnm Zjvsj Eyka Bnfc._


	3. The Golf War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s a hot day with little else to do then watch TV and maybe tinker with a few t **o** ys. Also, mini golf. But, when a certain bully sticks his nose where it shouldn’t be, an innocent game of mini-golf may soon take a turn that only Gravity Falls can take on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find the Title Card on dA:

The morning summer sun sent its life-giving rays over the valley in a blaze of heat. Diurnal animals ducked under shade as they foraged for food. People walked and drove through the small town, bringing life to the otherwise gray stone and wood settlement. Inside of the Shack, action was at a slow.

Handling a bowl of cereal, Stanford idly watched Duck-tective. Fiddleford tinkered with a metal bird on the table.

“Oh, hey!” Grunkle Dipper, a frying pan in his hand, walked up to the threshold of the living room. “Who wants pancakes?”

Stanford gave him a lazy look before he shrugged. “Nah.”

“Eh, no, thanks, Mr. Pines.”

Kicking the door open, Stanley stalked inside. Grunkle Dipper raised his pan so that Stanley didn’t run into it as he walked past. “What’s with the long face?”

In the middle of the living room, Stanley groaned and stopped. “Preston’s a giant jerk!” He held out a bag of toffees and a rolled-up newspaper. “Look at this!”

“Duh, he's Preston.” Stanford looked at the bag. “He let you get your favorite candy?”

Stanley stomped his foot and pointed to it. “No! He took the last one!”

Stanford raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that your holding, then?”

“Uh, oh, I stole it from him,” Stanley stated matter-of-factly.

“Really? Stanley,” Grunkle Dipper scolded. “I’ve told you before: stealing’s wrong!”

“Eh, so, what’s the problem?” Stanford prompted. “You got your candy.”

Digging into his pocket, Stanley huffed. “He’s a jerk. Look at this!” He unrolled the newspaper. A picture of him with his fox was on the front cover. “FOXES BEST EXOTIC ANIMALS, SAYS PRESTON”. “He bought his way to the front page again, totally skipping your thing on goats I took credit for.”

“Oh, yep. That’s him,” Stanford agreed.

Then, Fiddleford nodded. “He’s always been like this, Lee. Ya can’t be surprised by it by now.”

“Rrrr, I know.” Stanley sat down at the living room table with a huff. He easily downed a glass of orange juice and set his face on the table. “Ugh. I need something to get my mind off this.”

Up to that point, the mystery show Duck-tective hadn’t been given too much attention. Now, Duck-tective switched off as a commercial break appeared. The loud, clear voice of the narrator yelled from the TV, “Looking for a distraction from your horrible life?”

Stanley perked up. “Yeah?”

The TV answered, “Victory, honor, destiny, mutton!” As each word was said, the screen changed. Victory was a pirate atop a pile of gold, one foot on the chest and one hand clutching a sword raised. Honor was a man with a cape riding a brilliant white horse decorated by a blue blanket with white crosses. Destiny was a wizard in bright blue robes and a hat all decorated by stars waving his hand over a glowing orb. He was surrounded by mountains of books. Mutton showed a plain image of a headless animal skewered above a fire and rotating. The scene finally changed to a giant castle with the logo of “Ye Royal Discount Putt Hutt” in cut out letters. “These old-timey sounding words are alive and well at the Gravity Falls Royal Discount Putt Hutt!” Little words ran across the screen and the narrator said in a quick voice, “No mutton available at the snack shop.”

“Eh?” Stanford perked up. “Hey, Stanley! You love mini-golf!”

At that, Grunkle Dipper smiled. “Really?”

Cheerfully, Stanford nodded. “Mhm. He’s been great at it since forever. We’ve never been in any formal competitions. He kind of got us banned from the course though.”

“Hey, it was the other guy’s fault,” Stanley was quick to counter. “He was lookin’ at me funny!”

“Oh, I’m sure he was.” Grunkle Dipper rolled his eyes. “So, what do you say? Would kicking out butts at mini golf make you feel better?”

Then, Stanley shrugged. “Eh. Maybe a little.”

“Hya!” Stanford jumped up and balanced on the T-Rex skull. “To victory!”

Encouraged by his nephews’ enthusiasm, Grunkle Dipper puffed out his chest. “Honor!”

“Right! Destiny!” Fiddleford announced.

Stanley hopped off his chair. “Mutton!”

“Victory!” “Honor!” “Destiny!” “Mutton!” they chanted as they marched out of the house.

 

Grunkle Dipper’s baby blue car parked in the front parking lot. The shadow of the giant stump bearing the words “YE ROYAL DISCOUNT PUTTHUTT” and with medieval gates fell over the lot. Grunkle Dipper, Fiddleford, Stanley, and Stanford walked in, oohing at the new place to play. While Grunkle Dipper had changed into a red t-shirt with his pine tree cap but left his trench coat in the car, Stanley, Stanford, and Fiddleford contented on wearing what they usually wore. Stanford held his bright blue club while Stanley had a brilliant red one. Fiddleford tagged along with a nice yellow club.

A small crowd of people, enough to feel like a mini golf course but not too many to be suffocating, milled about the complex park of mini golf courses.

Stanley leaned on his golf club. “Wouldja look at that? An entire park to dominate!”

Stanford chuckled. “And there’s no seagulls to steal the golf balls!”

Fiddleford grinned. “There’s something for everyone here!”

Farther into the park, Janice cackled as she spray-painted “WEINERS” on the side of the wall. “HEY!” Janice jumped and spun around as the “Mini Golf King”, an acne-ridden teen with an overly large complex cape and robes, approached in a modified golf cart. Janice darted off. “You! Stop!” The golf cart started off at a comically slow pace. “Come back here! Hey, those are some lewd hand gestures!”

“You first!” Stanley pushed Stanford.

“Okay, okay!” Stanford put down his little blue ball and stepped to the side. “Focus! Focus! And… eh!” He swung. The very end of the club tapped the ball. It rolled off the course into a puddle. “Aw, come on.”

Stanley laughed and stood up straight. “You’ll still always be number two in my book.”

Stanford sighed and stepped back. “I’ll take what I can get.”

“Step aside and let a pro onto the field.” Stanley set down his own scarlet ball. He shifted his weight and held up the club. “Take a breath, shift your weight, and–yah!” He swung. The ball burst through the course, reverberating off walls and obstacles and hopping over dangers. It rolled up and then down the small hill, hit the sleeping “Old Woman” Chiu on the nose, and rolled into the hole.

“Old Woman” Chiu jumped and looked about. “Eh? Eh? How’d I get here?”

“Yes!” Stanley hissed in victory.

Grunkle Dipper laughed. “Hey! Nice job, Stanley, you weren’t kidding!”

Stanford smiled. “Grunkle Dipper, you haven’t seen anything yet!”

They hopped from hole to hole. Although Stanford and Fiddleford took their turns attempting to get the ball in the hole, the real show was Stanley. Most hits got a hole in one, though some got a hole in two. As they played, they attracted a crowd.

Finally, they stood under the “18” flag. Stanford held up their score sheet. “Ha! This is amazing! Just one more hole-in-one and he’ll beat his all time high score!”

The crowd watched Stanley with great excitement. Stanley looked up at the windmill and then down at the ball. _“Okay, Stanley. Pretend that ball’s Preston’s face.”_ He smirked and swung. The ball zoomed through the course, dodged the windmill’s blades, and fit through the hole in the windmill. They ran around to the other side. They could hear the ball clinking through the windmill. Eventually, the ball rolled out the middle of the three exits and to the hole. The ball missed by an inch, rolled around a bump in the ground by the hole, and ended up in a rain puddle.

“Aw, darn!” Stanley huffed and threw down his club.

The crowd sighed and dispersed. “Aw, man!” “Well that didn’t work!” “Oh yes, he’s all done playing.”

Grunkle Dipper plucked the ball out of the water and dried it off on his shirt. “Ah, don’t worry about it, kiddo. The thing’s random.”

Fiddleford nodded. “Mhm. How mini-golf works is a big mystery in itself.”

Grunkle Dipper smiled. “You know, as far as I’m concerned, you’re better than anyone else in Gravity…” His voice trailed off as a purple ball rolled out of the windmill and plopped into the hole.

“Huh?” Even Stanley looked a bit confused. He picked up his golf club.

“Oh, would you look at that!” They looked up to see Preston tromping down to the hole, his parents were far behind him, talking to people it seemed. “I didn’t know it was ‘Hobo’s Golf Free’ Day!”

Grunkle Dipper crossed his arms, looked at him, and then glanced up at his two mothers behind him. Stanley glowered at the boy.

Preston stopped and looked over them. “Well if it isn’t the Pines family.” He put a finger to his chin and pointed to them each in turn. “Crazy.” Fiddleford looked away from him. “Old.” Grunkle Dipper huffed in indignance. “ _Freak_.” Stanford looked away and hid his hands behind his back, a redness coming to his cheeks. Stanley seethed, his hands gripping his own golf club so hard his fingers turned white. “Stupid.”

Murder in his eyes, Stanley bristled and gripped his club in both hands. Grunkle Dipper gripped his shoulder. “Let me deal with this, Lee.” He straightened up. “Now, what are you doing so far from your parents? I thought Pacifica raised you better than this.”

Preston rolled his eyes. “She’s talking with more people _your_ speed.” He flashed a glare behind him. Pacifica and her wife chatted with a couple and their own kid playing mini-golf. When Stanford looked over his shoulder, he recognized the kid as Susan. “Anyway,” Preston started, turning back to them. “-I came here to beat all you peasants at this stupid game. Ha-ha! And it’s much easier than I thought it’d be!”

“Preston!”

Preston cringed. Behind him, Pacifica had turned her attention to him. Preston stated, “Yeah, Mom?”

“Oh! Dipper! It’s so nice to meet you here. And Stanley, Stanford, and Fiddleford. Oh, is Mrs. Chiu here?” Pacifica looked around as she arrived by her son’s side.

Stanley smirked at him, receiving a seething glare in return. Grunkle Dipper shook his head. “Oh, heh, no, not that I know of. Anymore, at least. I brought these three to have a nice round in the park. Stanley got a pretty good score!”

Pacifica’s wife, Tiffany, Piped up, “It’s so nice to see you kids getting along. You know, Preston talks about you guys a lot.”

“I don’t!” Preston growled, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

Pacifica chuckled, “Oh, don’t say that, Preston! Just today you were talking about Stanford’s article in the paper!”

Tiffany agreed, “Or going that to fair Mr. Pines made.”

Stanley piped up innocently, “What about that party we threw after kicking out Gideon? We didn’t see him there!”

“Oh, yes! Preston had practice that night, I’m sorry. Anyway, have you been through the whole course? There are a few new courses.”

Grunkle Dipper smiled again. “Sure! What do you kids say?”

Stanley immediately agreed. Stanford, after shooting his brother a confused look, nodded. Fiddleford agreed as well.

Begrudgingly, Preston mumbled, “Well, fine. But…”

Thunder rumbled overhead. Rain dribbled from the sky, pattering the cement and courses. Pacifica frowned. “Oh. Well, looks like we can’t do this today.”

Grunkle Dipper nodded. “Oh, well. Well, we better get home. Good night!”

“Good night, Pines!” Pacifica grinned and waved as the two families left.

As Preston walked past, he leaned toward Stanford and muttered, “Just because my mom’s nice to you, doesn’t mean I have to. You’re just a six-fingered, monster-chasing freak and, at this rate, that’s all you’ll ever be.”

Stanford cringed, a reddish tinge coming to his cheeks. Stanley, having heard the insult, spun around and snarled, “Say that to _my_ face, you fake, snobbish, ratty, sniveling coward!”

The people around them gasped. Preston smirked at Stanley. “Oh yeah? Fine. You’re brother’s just as much a freak as your friend’s a crazy no-friend nobody, and you’re just a stup–”

Preston was interrupted with a yell as Stanley swung at him. He managed to duck, just as Stanley’s club whistled over his head.

“Stanley!”

“Preston!”

Stanley tackled the boy. They fell into a shrieking tangle of punching and kicking and thrown insults. Grunkle Dipper took Stanley by the back of his shirt. Pacifica swooped down and picked up her son.

“Stanley, calm down!” Grunkle Dipper snapped.

“Preston, what do you think you’re doing?!”

Stanley glowered at Preston. “He called Ford a freak! You don’t think I’m going to stand by and let him, do you?!”

Preston glowered right back. “He started it! You saw him!”

Grunkle Dipper sighed through clenched teeth. “Alright, look. You can’t fix your problems by fighting.”

Pacifica looked up at them. “I’m so sorry. Preston, I told you to play nice.”

Tiffany sighed. “Today was supposed to be a relaxing day with fun at the mini golf park.”

Stanley growled, “Yeah, well, at least I can give something for Preston to think about!”

Preston scoffed, “As if. You can’t throw a decent punch to save your life, Jersey trash!”

Pacifica set her son down. “You’re going to apologize and then we’re going home _right now._ ”

Preston grumbled, “You couldn’t get me to apologize to _him_ if my life depended on it.”

Grunkle Dipper let go of Stanley and stood up straight, wincing as the sudden action to grab Stanley had hurt his back. “It’s fine. Stanley, come on. We’re going back to the Shack.” With that, he turned and walked off. Stanford tugged at Stanley’s sleeve. Pacifica took her son’s hand and walked in the opposite direction. Water peppered the ground as the rain started.

Stanley turned ahead and followed his great uncle. “If you think we’re done you’re wrong.”

Grunkle Dipper sighed. “I know, I know. Still, don’t take their bait. He’s asking for a punch in the nose. Don’t give it to him.”

As they got to the car, Stanley felt something hit the back of his head. He spun around with a snarl. One of Preston’s friends–Priscilla–waved and walked off, head in the air. Beneath Stanley was a rolled up wad of paper. He picked it up and smoothed it out. _“This park. Midnight. See who the best mini-golfer is. -Preston.”_

“You’re on,” Stanley growled under his breath.

 

The drenched party of four sat in a booth in Hermanos Brothers, a Mexican restaurant near the golf course. Stanley tapped his fingers on the wooden table and, not taking his eyes off the golf course outside, ate a nacho. Stanford looked over their golf course sheet. He ate out of the nacho basket as well. Fiddleford kept his gaze on a Cubic’s Cube he finished a few minutes ago.

Fiddleford took a deep breath and set down the toy. “Is this really a good idea?”

Stanley swallowed his snack. “Of course it’s a good idea! I made it.”

Grunkle Dipper leaned on the table. “Stanley, I think he’s talking about your competitiveness. I know you don’t like Preston, but going out in the mini golf course at midnight?”

“We’ll be fine.” Stanley waved his hand. “It’s not like anything comes out at midnight in a mini golf course. Besides,” a grin spread across his features. “-when I defeat Preston, he can never rag on us again!”

Stanford nodded. “Being competitive in mini-golf is better than what he normally does.”

Fiddleford tipped his head. “What does he normally do?”

“Punch people.”

“Oh.”

Stanley bared his teeth. He pointed to the gap. “I lost this one when Crampelter tried to wreck Ford’s experiment thingy. Oh, and I’m just growing this one back, which I lost when someone started teasing Ford about bein’ scared of the class pet.” He chuckled. “I once hurt my wrist breaking someone else’s nose during Show-and-Tell. Oh! Remember that one time I almost got a concussion when someone chucked a basketball at you and hit me in the head instead?”

Fiddleford looked at Stanford and then Stanley. “How do you–why? Er–well, Ah’m glad you like mini-golf, then.”

Stanley nodded. “Yeah. You know what? We should go there early! To practice!”

Grunkle Dipper gave him a sharp nod. “Yeah! Let’s do this thing.”

 

Grunkle Dipper’s car stopped by the side of the course and hopped out. Fiddleford stayed back and, utilizing a pair of binoculars, watched the parking lot and area around them. Grunkle Dipper pulled out a few nails in one of the boards and moved it so that it was just big enough for Stanford and Stanley.

“Remember, I don’t condone this normally, but Preston needs to be put in his place in a way that _doesn’t_ involve punching him. Oh, and, hey.” Grunkle Dipper took out a sticker and pressed it to Stanley’s shirt. It was a gold, round sticker with a trophy on it. “U DA BEST”. “Knock ’em dead, kid.”

Stanley gave him a thumbs up before crawling into the course and taking his club from Stanford.

 

Stanley, a bucket full of golf balls next to him, stood in front of the windmill course. He hit a yellow ball. It rolled through the windmill and then popped out the other side. Stanford watched as it joined over a dozen others around the hole, but not inside.

Stanley growled and stamped his club. “Erg! What the heck?!”

“I don’t get it!” Stanford agreed and stalked up to the windmill. “What is wrong with this hole?” Something clanked inside of the windmill. “Did you hear that?”

Stanley perked up and walked around to join Stanford. “What? What happened?”

Stanford backed up and whispered, “Grab your club.” He plucked his club off the wet ground. Stanley held his at a good angle to swing at something a bit higher up than the ground. They stalked toward the windmill, eyes narrowed, muscles tense, and grimaces wrinkling their noses. Once they got to the windmill, the Stan twins looked at each other and nodded. Stanley lowered his club and pulled a square of wood off the side. The twins lost their concentrated, threatening looks in lieu of shock and ill comprehension.

Inside of the windmill were not the gears, tubes, and maybe an opossum or raccoon they expected, but a city–a Dutch city of houses, tubes, towers, and tiny people with golf ball heads. The little ones walked about or worked or sang happy tunes. As soon as one spotted them, they all looked up and screamed. The twins screamed. The little ones screamed. The twins screamed and raised their clubs. The little ones screamed and huddled together. Stanley and Stanford looked at each other and then lowered their weapons. The one in the front, the one with the baby blue golf ball head rather than the common teal or pink or odd beige, stepped forward. “We good? We good?” The twins slowly nodded. The blue one smiled and waved. “All right then! Hi, hello! I’m Franz and welcome to our home!”

Stanford looked over the miniature city. “What is this?”

“Are you guys mini people?” Stanley prompted.

Franz laughed. “Nope! We’re Lilli _putt_ ians!” His smile melted as he attempted to speak their name in a way that would make more sense. “Lilli–Lilliputt… the name makes more sense written down than spoken.” His grin returned. “And we control the balls! Behold!” He hopped, spun around, and raised his arms.

The twins backed up as the windmill came to life with blaring lights. The rest of the foot of the windmill and the entire backside of the windmill opened with a blaze of bright white light. A teal lilliputtian rolled a red ball in through the entrance of the windmill, where a ball would normally go when hit. He pushed it into a bucket that was pulled up. This led into a very overly complex system of gears, pullies, levers, slides, ramps, tracks, and two lilliputtians who bounced the ball off their little bodies. Eventually, the ball landed in a seven-spoke turnstill pushed by four people. Part of the stone circle was gone to allow the red ball to roll through the center exit tunnel and into the hole.

Stanley gasped, “Whoa! That’s so cool!”

“And so needlessly complicated,” Stanford agreed.

Franz chuckled. “Aw, shucks! It’s only our life-long passion. Would you like us to elaborate through song?” The lilliputtians gathered behind Franz bearing flags and musical instruments. Franz started to sing.

Stanford shook his head. “Uh, we’re good.”

The lilliputtians groaned and dispersed.

Franz looked up at them. “So, what are you hugelings doing here, anyway?”

Stanley huffed, “We have to play this golf thing against my rival, Preston.” He grimaced at the mention of the rich brat.

The lillputtians gasped and dark murmurs rippled through their ranks. Franz’s gaze hardened. “Oh, we know all about rivals.”

“Put a clog in it, ya windmill-lubbers!” They turned around. Behind them, the pirate ship lit up. A crowd of pirate lilliputtians appeared on deck. Their leader, a pirate captain with one eye, gold teeth, and a scruffy brown beard, raised his hand. “These frilly-bottom popinjays are terrible at controllin’ the balls!” He drew his sword. “We are the ball masters, says I! Argh!” The other pirates roared in agreement.

“Shut your mouths, you show-boating pirates!” On their other side, the Eiffel tower lit up. A green lilliputtian with two of his friends leaned on the Eiffel tower near the top. He wielded a baguette. “Everyone knows ze Eiffel Tower hole is ze best!”

His blue friend pushed himself off the tower so that he stood up straight. “Je ne sais guoi. Sacreblue. Au revoir!” _“I don’t actually know French.”_

Spotlights lit up the castle wall some distance away. A knight brandished a mini pencil like a sword. “Say you comments, ye churlish Frenchman!” He removed his helmet to reveal a square red head and brown hair that reached his shoulders. “None control the balls better than the knights of-” He looked down. “Weiner Castle? Who wrote this?!”

Franz bristled and yelled. “We’ll settle which hole is best! Attack!” He raised his fist. The Dutchman, armed with golf pencils, raced out of their hole.

The pirate captain put his hands together. “Ooooh I’m shiverin’ in me timbers!” He turned to his crew. “Get them!” The rest yelled their excitement and swung on the ship on ropes, their long, curved swords glinting in the light.

“Long live the mini-king!” The knight cried as his knights climbed down the castle by ropes.

The tiny golf-ball head humanoids charged each other and piled Up in a writhing mass in front of the twins.

A Dutch lilliputtian charged a knight. “Die, medieval scum!” Their heads bumped together, and they ended up falling on their heads. Their little bodies squirmed but were unable to free themselves. “Ow!” A foot or so away, the pirate captain swung at a Frenchmen and ended up falling into the water. When a Dutchman entered the fight, a duck plucked him off the ground. After shaking him a bit, the duck swallowed him. The Frenchman dropped his pencil and fled.

Stanley stepped back so that a pencil wouldn’t stab his shoe. He laughed. “These guys are a riot!”

Stanford laughed as well. “Guys, stop fighting! Your fighting is inadvertently adorable!”

Franz, bruised and battered and holding one arm, limped past the unconscious or injured bodies of his brethren. “Adorable we are, hugeling, but our tale less so.” He stopped. “Every hole in the park thinks they’re superior, from the cowboys in the east to the grimey miners of the south.” Franz sighed. “If only there was some way to decide which side is best, with… maybe… an award, or, like a trophy, I dunno.”

A red French liliputtian ran up to Franz’s side, slapped his shoulder, and pointed to the gold “U DA BEST” sticker on Stanley’s shirt. “But, Franz, look!” The mixed crowd murmured and looked at each other and whispered in excitement.

“The sticker!” Franz exclaimed. “The sticker could decide!”

The French lilliputtian nodded. “It does say ‘Ze best’ on it!”

The head knight got down on one knee. “Decide for us, hugeling! Choose which mini-kingdom to give the sticker to and end our war!” The rest of the lilliputtians cheered.

Stanford looked about them. “Look, I don’t think we should be getting involved in your mini-blood feud.”

Stanley turned Stanford around. “Psst! Ford! This is perfect! These guys control the course, right? I’ll just tell ’em I’ll give the sticker to one who does the better job in helping us win!”

Stanford gave him a flat look. “That’s cheating, Stanley.”

Stanley shrugged. “So?”

Stanford huffed, “Cheating is wrong.”

“Preston’s rich, bro. He’s cheating at life,” Stanley pointed out. “Besides, don’t you want me to put him back in his place?” Stanford bit his lip.

 

Stanford, now standing on the castle, blew into a tiny horn. He handed it back to the knight. “Thanks.”

Stanley, standing next to him, announced, “People of the eighteen holes! We’re gunna have a game a mini-golf! Whoever does the best job in helping me win gets this sticker!” He pointed to the sticker on his chest with both hands.

“It’ll be us, lad,” the pirate captain boasted. “Not these tulip-munchers!”

Franz turned to him. “I will not be insulted by a man with no depth perception wearing earrings!”

Stanford cut in, “Remember: as long as you’re helping us, no fighting.”

The lilliputtiants looked at each other and smiled.

*          *          *          *          *

Grunkle Dipper and Fiddleford stayed in the car. While Grunkle Dipper read a mystery novel, Fiddleford meddled with an unsolved Cubic’s Cube. He didn’t really look at it and didn’t seem to mess with it in a way to solve it.

Grunkle Dipper looked down at him. “What’s wrong, Fiddleford?”

Fiddleford looked up at him. “Uh–what?”

“You’re fidgeting more than normal.”

“Oh. It’s, uh, it’s nothing.” Fiddleford looked at the dashboard again.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Grunkle Dipper started, “-but talking will help.”

Fiddleford looked down at the toy in his hand. After messing with it a bit longer, he sighed. “Ah’m just… nervous. I like staying with Mrs. Chiu, but I always feel like a bother.”

“Now why is that?” Grunkle Dipper didn’t look up from his book.

“Ah’m sure she’s got a lot ta do and Ah don’t ask to come over too long b’fore Ah get the time to,” Fiddleford answered. “She’s a real nice woman and she’s real smart. She got me inta mechanics and taught me a lot of what Ah know. Dad doesn’t like me visitin’ her, either.”

“Candy’s a sweet woman,” Grunkle Dipper agreed. “She’s a total genius. I’m extremely sure she’s not bothered by you. You want to know something, Fiddleford?”

Fiddleford tipped his head. “How do you know? …Mr. Pines? Were you friends with Mrs. Chiu before you came here?”

Grunkle Dipper nodded. “Oh, yes. We were. We were partners in crime, back in the day. Hehe Figuratively and literally.” Grunkle Dipper looked at Fiddleford. “You, Ford, and Lee remind me a lot of us, actually. Best friends who could take on the world.” He gained a wistful smile. “I remember after high school we’d write back and forth all the time. She told me about her husband and soon after her first and only son. She was so excited.” His wistful smile left him. “That’s why I know she isn’t bothered by you coming over. She thinks you are just the perfect little genius.”

Fiddleford glanced down at the Cubic’s Cube, which he’d started to play with again, and then at him. “Do ya ever still talk ta her?”

“…when I can,” Grunkle Dipper admitted, his voice dropping a bit. “I invite her over for parties or talk when she’s around but there’s nothing much I can do. She doesn’t recognize me, anymore.”

“What went wrong?” Fiddleford tipped his head.

Grunkle Dipper sighed. “I wish I knew, Fiddle.” He put on a smile and shut his book. “You know, this is a pretty sad subject. How about that thing I see you keep making?”

“The bird?” Fiddleford perked up.

Grunkle Dipper nodded. “Yep! How’s that going along?”

 

Later, Preston, now wielding a club, strutted into the golf course alongside a tall, gangly man in a sport’s outfit. “How much you wanna bet they’re no shows?”

Ahead of them, a succession of lights blinked on along a path that ended at a circle of green with half of a giant golf ball on it. Stanford stood next to it while Stanley stood on it. “Lookin’ for someone?”

Preston scoffed, “Wow. Waiting in the dark. Creeps. I don’t know why you even bothered–unless you like getting your butt kicked. Pretty much what happened during that dumb party your uncle threw, right?”

Stanford pouted, and Stanley hopped down. “Be prepared to eat your words, Preston.”

Sergei, the man beside Preston, announced, “Eighteen holes. Standard rules. Winner lives in glory, loser wallows in eternal shame.” He pulled out a gun and pointed it up. “On your mark, get set, mini-golf!”

At the first hole, with the cowboys, Preston went first. The ball clicked against the edges of the course and rolled toward the hole. Two liliputtians popped out of the hole and moved the wagon so that the ball was deflected. When Stanley hit the ball, cowboys would push the grass up at certain intervals to make sure the ball got to the hole. When it got within an inch of the hole and tottered, a cowboy poked out of the mini water tower and shot it with a tiny gun. The ball rolled in. Preston growled in frustration and stalked off. Stanley gave them the thumbs up as they left. The cowboys gathered in the water tower and threw a banner stating “GO COWBOYS” on the tower facing the pirates. The pirate captain growled as cowboys mocked them.

When they got to Hole Eight with the pirates, Stanley went first. The ball popped into the ship, where it was fired from a cannon into the hole to make a hole-in-one. Preston pushed past him with a “Get out of my way!” and hit his own ball. It rolled into the ship and popped out a cannon facing them. The ball launched out of the ship and hit Preston’s mouth. He spat it out. “Ugh! Are you serious?!” On the ship itself, the pirates cheered. Their captain sliced open a can of root beer with his hook and many pirates held their flagons under the foaming brown spray.

At the miner hole, Stanley went second. He tapped his ball into the miner’s hole. Stanford, holding the score sheet, made a soft huff. “Heh. I wonder what little things go on in there.”

His red ball fell down a mine shaft into a mine cart, where two lilliputtians started rolling it down the track. They were immediately stopped by a red prospector lilliputtian waving his arms. “Stop! You can’t go in there! There’s been a gas leak! Anyone who goes in there will die!”

A lilliputtian twice as tall and thrice as wide as the others stalked forward. The crowd parted. His name, “Big Henry”, whispered among them. “I’ll take it.”

A tiny gold lilliputtian girl without a helmet screamed and ran to him. “No! Don’t go Big Henry!” She hugged him around the waist. Her little tears blotched his dirty suit. “We need you!”

Big Henry didn’t look down. “Go home, Polly.” Polly let go of him. She, along with the rest of the crowd, watched as Big Henry dropped his pickax and pushed the mine cart by himself. He wheezed as he trudged through the smoggy mineshaft. Beats of sweat formed over his face and body.

Outside, the three boys and Sergei waited. Preston checked his watch.

Inside, Big Henry’s movements started to slow, and his head drooped. He slapped himself. “Come on, Big Henry! You can do this.” Once he finally made it to the end, he gave the cart one final shove and slammed his fist into the red button. The mine cart lifted itself up. Big Henry slumped down beside the mine elevator, his back to the wall. He took out a crudely drawn crayon picture of him holding Polly’s hand. Rendered speechless from exhaustion, poison, and emotion, Big Henry simply stared at the picture with tear-filled eyes before he could no longer hold his arms up. He fell still. The picture stayed clutched in his hand.

On the surface, the ball rolled past Preston’s and into the hole. “What?!” Preston snapped and threw his club up. Sergei caught it. “Sergei! Soda! Now!” Preston, fuming, stalked off with Sergei at his side.

Stanley and Stanford knelt beside the gem-studded mine. Stanford pulled off the lid. Stanford chuckled, “Okay, that was great!”

“High fives!” Stanley set his hand on the ground and held up a finger. The miners slapped his finger as they passed by him one by one. Stanley sat up and pointed to the sticker on his chest. “Not tryin’ to call it out early, but the miners might have one of these in their future!”

From the eighteenth hole, Franz looked through a telescope in the top of the windmill. He growled and threw his hat down. “Are you kidding me?! After everything we’ve worked for?”

Another Dutchman approached him. “Calm yourself, Franz. There may be another way to win the hugeling’s favor. Knock on wood.” They both lifted one foot and knocked on their clogs.

 

Preston sat on a bench near the restroom while Sergei stood in front of the vending machine. Preston crossed his arms and glared in the direction of the twins, though he couldn’t see them. “There’s something going on, Sergei. I can feel it.”

Sergei presented him with a soda. “Maybe they have little people who control where the balls go.”

Preston huffed, “Hoo, we need to get you English lessons.” He cracked open the soda. “I mean, think about it. I’m globally ranked. It’s ridiculous that back-water, Jersey trash is beating me.” The bush rustled behind him. Preston gulped down the soda and then spat out a pit. “Ugh, Pitt Cola! I always forget about the pit. Get me a different one, Sergei.” He discarded the can. Sergei turned around and tapped in another order. Behind them, dozens of tiny hands popped out of the hedge, grabbed Preston, and dragged him into the brush. Preston screamed as he was dragged into the leaves and Twigs of the manicured hedge.

Sergei turned around, soda in his hand. “This is bad.”

 

Stanford and Stanley stood next to the last hole–the windmill. Stanford tallied the score. Stanley snickered, “I can’t wait to see the look on Preston’s face when I–we win! I’m thinking it’ll be like ‘ugh’.” He made a face. “You know how he does that–‘ugh’.”

Stanford sighed. “Is it bad I feel good about Preston feeling bad?”

Stanley smirked. “As if. Enjoy our victory while we can! Besides, it’s not like losing is going to kill him or anything.”

Behind them, Preston screamed.

“Spoke to soon,” Stanford stated. The two turned around.

The windmill and the path to it lit up. Preston was tied down to the ramp leading to the windmill. He struggled. “What’s going on here?! Let me go!”

The twins screamed.

Franz walked forward and held out his arms. “Welcome twins, welcome! I can tell you’re loving this, right? Right? No?” His smile wavered.

Stanley stared down at him in shock. “What are you guys doing?”

“This wasn’t part of the deal, Dutchman!” Stanford agreed.

Franz nodded. “Okay, so we saw you were favoring the miners, and we figured, ‘What’s better than beating Preston?’” He blew a raspberry and hit himself in the head. “Killing him, right?”

Preston glared at them. “I’m calling my parents! Where’s my phone?” A few feet away, three Dutch lilliputtians played with a phone. “TO: JESSY” “U R DUMB”. They snickered and pressed send. “Hey!” Preston snapped. “Get your little hands off that!”

Franz grinned up at the twins. “So, how about it, hugeling? Who’s da best now?”

Behind him, the pirate captain yelled, “Not so fast land lubbers!” He pointed to Sergei with his sword. The Russian trainer was tied up and stood on a plank. “If you’re going to play dirty, so are we. Now give us the sticker, or he walks the plank!”

A French lilliputtian cut in, “No! Give us ze sticker!”

Miners stalked out of their hole. “The miners! Give it to the miners!”

The lilliputtians yelled at each other and at Stanley. “Pirates!” “French!” “Big Henry!” were three phrases they could pick out of the chaos.

Stanley stamped his foot. “Enough!” the clamor stopped in an instant. A lilliputtian opened a duck’s beak to peak out from its mouth. “Ya know what? No one gets the sticker!”

A pink, French lilliputtian was the first to speak up. “Sacre-boo!” The other lilliputtians booed in agreement.

“No, no! Nuh-uh!” Stanley pointed to each of them in turn and glared at the crowd. “No one gets the sticker because you’re all a bunch of jerks!”

“What’s with the rivalry?” Stanford prompted.

A Dutchman piped up, “Because we hate each other.”

The pirate captain nodded. “That’s kind of how rivalries work, lad.”

Stanford looked at his brother. Stanley rolled his eyes. “Well then, maybe rivalries are dumb. And you shouldn’t settle them with stupid competitions. The only way to be ‘da best’ is to work together.” Stanford cracked a small smile, both in encouragement and amusement as the words seemed to physically hurt Stanley. “So, stop fighting and work together!” He tore the sticker off his chest and swallowed it.

The lilliputtians gasped. A Dutchman stared up at him. “It’s all so clear.”

“Yeah!” Franz agreed. “If we work together…”

The pirate captain continued, “-then we can cut open his belly and get the sticker!” The lilliputtians cheered and charged.

“Get ze boy!” a French one yelled. “Slice him open!”

Stanford backed up to a pole. “Uh, you guys aren’t appreciating the lesson here!”

The remaining Dutchman raced past the lever, accidently flipping it on. “Sti-cker! Sti-cker! Sti-cker!” they chanted. Preston gasped as the hill started moving. The windmill’s blades twirled at a lethal speed. He screamed and struggled in his bonds.

Stanley pointed to the exit. “There! We can make it!”

“We have to save Preston,” Stanford denied.

“Save him?!”

“We can’t let him die.”

“You sure?”

“Stanley!”

Stanley rolled his eyes and groaned. “If I die, I’m coming back to haunt you.” He stuck his golf club in his mouth and scaled the pole. Stanford took a few steps back to avoid being speared by the angry lilliputtians. Once Stanley made it to the top, he held onto the pole with his legs, held the golf club and swung it over a string of lights, and then let go of the pole. He zipped down the string of lights like a zipline and let go with one hand once he got to the end. He landed in a roll beside Preston and started untying the knots.

By the pirate ship, Sergei started to wobble. “Ah, Mister Stanford! Нет, нет!”

Stanford called back, “Don’t panic! The water is shallow. There’s no way to drown!”

Sergei fell off and landed face-first into the water.

Stanford sighed. “Oh, come on.”

Preston glared at Stanley. “Took you long enough. And watch the shirt. It’s worth more than your house.”

Stanley let go of the ropes. “You know I probably shouldn’t untie you.”

“No! Untie me!” Preston countered, his voice growing a sudden panic. “Untie me!”

“That’s what I thought.” Stanley tore off the last of the bonds. Preston jumped up and grabbed his own golf club.

They stopped and looked down at the crowd before them. The pirate captain yelled, “We have you at miniature pencil point! There’s no way around us!”

Stanley gained a sinister smile and held onto his club with both hands. “You ready to putt?”

“Already ahead of you.” Preston gripped his own golf club. They yelled and whacked lilliputtians like the golf balls they were. Stanford drove the cart through the crowd, effectively splitting them. He sat at the wheel while Sergei stayed in the back. “Get in!” Stanford ordered.

Preston climbed into his seat. Stanley hopped into his own. “Gun it!” The cart sped off.

The pirate captain roared, “Don’t let them escape!”

Stanford gripped the cart and glared ahead. He swerved past obstacles and cut through a few courses as he barreled toward the exit. Ahead of them, the knights sliced ropes on either side. Two axes swung down. Stanford shut his eyes and tensed. Their golf cart barely managed to slip through between swings. When Stanford opened his eyes, they were off the road. It was too late to turn so they ended up driving through a loop-de-loop. They screamed and held on tight as gravity tried to switch on them and buck them off the cart.

Sergei’s grip failed, and he fell off. “Sergei down!”

Preston glanced at his mini-golf teacher. “I’ll get a new one.”

Stanford gave him a flat glare but continued driving anyway. He gasped as the front gates started to close. “They’re shutting us in!” Holes poked through the roof of the cart.

Stanley looked up and climbed onto the roof. Franz stared him down. “Don’t even think about it. You call yourself a golfer? Without us, that club is useless in your hands!”

Stanley sneered. “Oh yeah? What’s ten minus six?”

“T-ten minus six?” Franz muttered.

“Four!” Stanley cried and swung his golf club. Franz screamed and went flying into the bonus hole. Stanley climbed down and held onto his seat as their golf cart flew off a ramp and nearly landed inside of the bonus hole. The light and roar and fake lava of the bonus hole shot them into the air. They catapulted out of the golfing grounds and crashed into the parking lot on the other side. Once they rolled to a stop, the cart collapsed.

Pencils and an ax broke through the main gate from the other side. Franz yelled, “Stay out, you dumb hugelings!” Golf balls were tossed from the other side.

Preston bristled and stalked up to the gate. “What did you say, you little trolls? I will sue you!” He punched the gate. “I will sue you and I will own you!” He spun around to face the twins. He stalked up to Stanley. “You two! I don’t know what you did or what’s going on, but if you think just because you saved my life, I-” He stopped as Stanford held out a hand.

Stanley crossed his arms. “Dude. Shut up.”

Stanford agreed, “We pretty much just saved you from having your pretty face sliced up.”

Preston crossed his arms. “Yeah? Well if it wasn’t for you, there wouldn’t have been any big drama with stupid little golf ball men!”

“And women,” Stanford pointed out. “There were girls.”

“Whatever. That’s not the point!”

Grunkle Dipper’s car drove around the parking lot and stopped beside them. “Hey, kids! Your competition over?”

Stanley and Stanford smiled. Stanley pranced over to the back door. “Yeah. We pretty much ruled.”

Grunkle Dipper turned to Stanford. “Who won?”

“No one,” Stanford admitted as he climbed into the car. “The golf course decided to attack us and nearly killed Preston. So, we had to cut off our game.”

Grunkle Dipper looked about the parking lot. “Hey, uh, Preston. Your parents aren’t here yet.”

“Dipper, please,” Stanford started.

“Don’t,” Stanley agreed.

“Do you need a ride home?”

Preston scoffed and crossed his arms. “As if I’d ride in your bu-” Lightning flashed overhead. Thunder rumbled through the valley.

 

Preston sat in the middle of the backseat. He looked down at his hand and recoiled in disgust as something sticky rubbed off on his glove. Stanford leaned on the right-side door and looked into the passenger seat. “Hey! Can I see that?”

Fiddleford turned around. “This? Oh, sure.” He handed the Cubic’s Cube back to Stanford.

Stanley, on Preston’s left, looked behind him. “Oooh! Tacos!” He pulled them out and took a bite out of one.

Preston stared at him. “Your parents let you eat in the car?”

“Grunkle Dipper does,” Stanley corrected and swallowed the mouthful he’d eaten. “It’s where surprise snacks happen.” He looked up into the driver’s mirror. Grunkle Dipper gave him a small nod of encouragement. Stanley reluctantly turned to Preston and held out a taco. “You want one?”

“Oh.” Preston held up a hand. “I’m not supposed to take hand-outs.”

Stanley gave him a blank look. “Hand-outs? It’s called sharing, dude. …you know what sharing is, right?”

“Sha… shaaawing?” Preston guessed.

“Just take it.” Stanley held it out to him so that it nearly touched his hand.

Preston took it. “Okay, uh, thanks?”

Stanley took another bite out of his taco and leaned over to watch his brother and best friend. Preston followed his gaze.

“Stanford!” Fiddleford complained.

Stanford snickered and kept playing with the Cubic’s Cube. “What?”

“I just finished it!”

Stanford held it up. “But I did, too.” At first glance, it looked like it had been solved. All sides had only one color. However, the edges were all wrong. He handed it to Fiddleford.

Fiddleford looked it over. “What the heck?”

“I just made it better.” Stanford shrugged and sat back.

“You are so mean to me.” Fiddleford focused on the toy.

Stanley called, “Hey! I bet you can’t solve that in sixty seconds!”

Fiddleford looked up at him. “You’re on!”

“I’ve got the Timer.” Stanford held up a stopwatch. “Go!”

Preston glanced at Stanley. “What are they doing?”

“What nerds do. Fidds can’t stand a messed up Cubic’s Cube. Ford likes to mess with him. I, of course, like a challenge. What, don’t tell me your friends don’t do that?”

“Pfft, no. We do much better things, obviously.” Preston shrugged and took a bite out of his taco.

“Like what?”

“Better things,” Preston answered. “Like pool and golf. And lessons and that junk.”

Stanford tapped the watch. “Time’s up!”

Fiddleford held up the cube. “Got it!”

Stanley leaned over and held up a hand. “Sweet!” Fiddleford high-fived him and fist-bumped Stanford.

 

Grunkle Dipper slowed their car in front of Preston’s mansion. Stanley got out to allow Preston to leave. Preston started off toward his home and then hesitated. “Uh, thanks for the ride, or whatever.”

Stanley shut the door and put on his seatbelt.

Grunkle Dipper smiled. “See? If you’re nice to him rather than competitive, you can get places.”

“Is that why you made me share my taco with him?” Stanley prompted.

“And gave him the ride?” Stanford agreed.

Grunkle Dipper nodded. “Mhm. Rivalries are dumb. Friendships are amazing. Besides, at the end of the day, Preston’s just a normal kid. Now, let’s get home!”

 

 

EYMMN WHFEYMBICHGH HXOTL XGS CG T WIEX XH HGT. GHKT FBDT U AHAY BG IQH HG ZBOT.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very funny, Preston. I didn’t like him in canon, but this is just ridiculous. Golf is a better way to solve problems than punching, remember that. No one else was at the park and, uh, Preston didn’t think it through since he snuck out and his parents weren’t actually going to pick him up. Er, that was Sergie’s job. Right, well, we got a bit more backstory here and it’s all looking up, including Preston’s relationship with the twins! Eh-heh, this season is definitely full of sunshine and rainbows, yeah!
> 
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> 
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> 4: _Ibhlt Ebwh Mnkt Xh Edpx tcx Mkjmm Xpwa Hibxk. X Bhit Hhmwcgz Rbtgvyl Mwum._


	4. Sock Concert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The laptop has been repaired! Now all there is to do is open in up and discover the secrets o **f** Gravity Falls. Hopefully nothing like some petty competition will get in the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find the Title Card on dA:

In the deep summer valley, a few leaves blew over the Gravity Falls library. Dreary, heavy gray clouds blanketed the small town. Within the library, many children gathered around the “stage” made by a person conducting a sock puppet show. Further into the library, Stanley and Stanford sat at a desk.

“Now, Stanley!” Stanford announced as he opened his bag. “Today is the BIG day!” He pulled out the worn laptop prototype from his bag and set it on the desk.

“Hya! We’ll get to find out who the author is! And then we won’t need to decode that book anymore,” Stanley agreed.

“I’m so glad we know Fiddleford,” Stanford commented as he opened the laptop. “He fixed this thing right up!” On the top, a Blue strip with the square words “PROPERTY OF C” was imprinted. Though it was no longer dusty, the keyboard still felt weird. Stanford pressed the power button. Green letters scribbled over the laptop as did a power bar as the laptop powered itself up. “This is it…!” It started to go through an animation with circles, a green plane, and finally a triangle with a circle in the center and four circles in the corner. WELCOME. “It worked!”

“Mhm!” Stanley held up his fist for a fist-bump and then they pretended to shoot each other with finger guns.

_WRRRR!_

Excitement dimming, they turned to see the colors on the laptop screen turned red. A large rectangle with a very thick red border came up. “//UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS PROHIBITED//” stamped in the center. The box turned green, but its contents changed. “ENTER PASSWORD:” was at the top with “_ _ _ _ _” under it.

The kids groaned. Stanford huffed, “Ugh! Of course! A password! I really should have seen that coming.”

“Really, computer? Oh, don’t worry, bro!” Stanley put an arm around his shoulders. “With your brains and my _laser focus_ , we’ll get this thing cracked in no time! There is literally nothing that can distra–did you hear that?”

Up to that point, Stanley had been ignoring what was behind them. Behind them, the blonde boy in charge of the puppet show was ending the current show. A bee puppet was in one hand and a book puppet was in the other. Behind him was an electric keyboard. Both children and the parents stayed to watch what was going on. “ _All my life, I’ve been dreamin’ of a love that’s right for me. And now I finally know her name and it’s…~”_ He looked down at the kids. “Sing it with me, kids!”

Singing along were the kids. _“Li-ter-a-cy~!_ ”

The blonde boy raised his bee-puppet hand. “I finally understand what all the _buzz_ is about! Reading!”

He then raised a book puppet. “Give me some of that honey!” The two puppets “kissed”. The puppet show master laughed. “Thank you, thank you!” he called to the children as they clapped.

“Oh brother,” Stanley sighed. “That’s just ridiculous.”

“It’s a kid’s play,” Stanford pointed out. “It’s not meant for minds like ours. Besides, you can’t criticize. You’ve never even looked at a sock puppet before.”

“What about that sock puppet show we made in third grade?” Stanley countered.

Stanford gave him a flat look. “I did it for you, remember?”

“Oh yeah.” Stanley chuckled.

“Anyway,” Stanford got up and walked over to the shelf. “We should get cracking… hmm… this cryptology book says that there are 7.2 million five-letter words. I’ll type, you read. …Stanley?” Stanford, book in his hands, looked back at the empty spot Stanley had once occupied. “Where’d you go?” He looked toward the puppet show. “Oh no.”

The puppet-show-boy sang, _“That’s why we don’t stick our hands in–”_

The kids piped up, _“–other people’s mouths!”_

The puppet-show-boy nodded. “Hey, I’m Gabe Benson, ya’ll. Good night!” The parents walked out of the area with their kids. He turned to his puppets. “Hey, good job today, you guys.”

The book looked at the bee. “You were late on your cue!”

“What?!” the bee gasped in indignance.

Gabe Benson clicked is tongue, “Hey, hey! Be good to each other. We’re all stars.”

Stanley rolled in on one of the book carts. “Hey!”

“Oh! Hey! I’m Gabe, Master of Puppets. You?”

“I’m Stanley,” Stanley replied with a casual shrug. “So, you’re good with puppets, right?”

“Totally!” Gabe replied. “I throw shows here a lot.”

“So, I’m guessing you never go on a big stage, huh?”

Stanford typed in “PASSWORD” as the password. It beeped, flashed red with “//UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS FORBIDDEN//”, and then returned to the password screen. Stanford sighed. “This… is going to take a while.”

“Hey, Foooord?”

“Oh no.” Stanford turned and looked back at his brother.

Stanley sat down at his seat, a broad grin on his face. “You know how to make puppets, right?”

“What did you do?” Stanford asked, skepticism creeping into his voice.

Stanley shrugged. “Oh, well… I’m putting on a puppet show. Hey! How hard will it be to make a full stage puppet rock opera with original music, voice acting, pyrotechnics, and a good story by Friday?”

“Oh, my gosh, Stanley!” Stanford groaned. “Why? You know we need to figure this password out!”

“I’m sorry, okay? I just got caught up in the moment,” Stanley replied with a shrug. “I might have said that I could put on a really good puppet show and he should eat his words about me not knowing anything about them.”

“That’s because you don’t,” Stanford pointed out and sighed. “We need to get this password cracked, man! I don’t know how to hack yet, so we’ll have to make due with guessing.”

“Look, just a few days!” Stanley begged. “Please? I’ll be so embarrassed on Friday if I don’t have anything. Just a few days, bro! Then I will do everything I can to crack that password I _promise._ ”

Stanford sighed. “Yeah, fine.”

“HA-HA! YES!” Stanley pulled him in for a hug. “THIS GUY! This guy is number one!” Those in the immediate vicinity stopped reading and turned their attention to the duo.

Stanford wheezed and then laughed, “Okay, okay, okay! Shhh! I got it.” He packed up the laptop and left with Stanley. “We’re getting so close! I can _taste_ it!”

The boys’ shadows fell over the wall. Bill’s shadow floated behind them.

 

For days, the duo bought supplies and ran to shops and streets to make their creations. They enlisted the help of Fiddleford, Ivan, Susan, and Dan. During the day, they sewed and glued and stitched things together. By night, Stanford guessed the password to the laptop.

 

Stanford, as the day was rolling to an end, sat outside, close to the forest, as to get away from the noise. He sat with his back to the Shack and the laptop and crossbow in front of him. The laptop would make an annoying buzz each time the incorrect password was typed in. Through his sleep deprived state, he couldn’t hear Fiddleford walk out of the Space Shack and into the yard.

Fiddleford put a hand on his shoulder. Stanford yelled in surprise and spun around, shoving Fiddleford out of the way, and keeping him away with the crossbow in his hands. “Wh-who–why are you here?!” His voice reached a weird pitch. Despite wearing his glasses, he couldn’t process what he saw, which just made his paranoia and fear increase.

“Whoa! It’s me, Fiddleford!” Fiddleford held his hands in front of him. “Ah swear it!”

Stanford lowered his crossbow and rubbed his eyes. “Oh. Ugh, I’m sorry, Fidds.” He set the crossbow down next to his laptop.

“W-why do you have a crossbow, anyway?” Fiddleford asked, not standing down from his frozen state.

“In case something like those gnomes or a gremloblin or whatever shows up,” Stanford explained and looked back at the forest. “I _know_ something out there is watching me. I feel it.”

“Ford, you should get some sleep,” Fiddleford encouraged and lowered his hands. “I know I fixed up that laptop pretty well. It can survive a night stowed away.”

Stanford shook his head. “Just a few more tries and then I’m done.” Stanford sat down again and set his crossbow a bit closer to himself.

Fiddleford started to approach, but looked at the crossbow and stopped. “Stanford, ya need yer sleep.”

“Just a few more tries and I’ll go to bed.”

 

Stanford, sitting cross-legged in bed with papers and books scattered around him, held the laptop on his lap. Stanley put up all the sock puppets so that they wouldn’t break or stick to each other. “Heh. We’re totally blowing that blonde-dude out of the park.”

“Ugh! Wrong!” Stanford growled in frustration as yet another attempt failed. He fell back onto his paper-covered bed.

Stanley turned his attention to him. “Whoa! You should really get some sleep, bro. You start acting real paranoid when you don’t sleep.”

“I don’t!” Stanford snapped back and then sighed. “Look, I just need to try a few more times.”

 

Stanford sat on the roof, laptop on his lap and about nine empty Pitt Cola cans scattered around the ice cooler. He typed in a password. It beeped at him. “ERG! I can’t take that sound anymore!” Stanford growled. “I think I’m going insane. This is stupid.” He rubbed his eyes. “There has to be some sort of shortcut or clue or… ugh. Who would know about secret codes?”

A gust of wind ruffled the trees and swept up leaves. Stanford looked about. The laptop shut itself. He sucked in his breath and, clutching the heavy laptop to his chest, stood up. His jacket waved in the wind that picked up. Behind him, the full moon glowed. One black line rolled out over it like a cat pupil. Stanford winced as the spotlight was put on him. He spun around. Light blue bricks came out of nowhere and gathered around the moon to form a pyramid. In a flash of teal light, Bill appeared. “ **I THINK I KNOW A GUY!** ”

Stanford screamed and turned his body so that the laptop was “hidden” from sight. In the back of his muddled mind, he knew that Bill knew of its presence.

“ **WELL, WELL, WELL,** ” Bill started, hands on his sides and a cane in one hand. “ **YOU’RE AWFULLY PERSISTENT, SIXER! HAT’S OFF TO YOU!** ” Bill shut his eye and tipped his hat. However, as his hat moved, the entire black-and-white world did, too. Stanford stumbled and waved his free arm. The world returned back to normal as he put his hat back on. Stanford, wobbly on his feet, stabilized himself.

“It’s you again!” Stanford hissed.

Bill chuckled. “ **DID YOU MISS ME?** ” He put a finger to his “cheek” and squinted his eye. “ **ADMIT IT! YOU MISSED ME!** ”

“Hardly,” Stanford returned. “You worked with Gideon! You tried to destroy my uncle’s mind! You _betrayed_ me!”

Bill floated over his head and landed behind Stanford, upside down. Stanford moved the laptop so that he clutched it to his chest with both arms. “ **IT WAS JUST A JOB, KID!** ” Bill righted himself. “ **NO HARD FEELINGS. I HAD TO! BESIDES, I’VE BEEN KEEPING AN EYE ON YOU!** ” Bill floated around to be in front of Stanford. “ **AND I MUST SAY–I’M IMPRESSED!** ”

“Really?” Stanford asked, inadvertently relaxing a bit.

“ **OH DEFINITELY! YOU DESERVE A PRIZE! HOW ABOUT A HEAD THAT’S ALWAYS SCREAMING?** ” Bill clapped his hands. A glowing blue head of a black-haired man with a wrinkled face, goatee, and ponytail landed before him. The head started screaming. Stanford recoiled, eyes round in shock. The skin floated off in ribbons as if sliced by a pineapple cutter. The flesh followed suit and soon the skull dematerialized. “ **POINT IS, I LIKE YOU, KID!** ” He leaned on the roof of the Space Shack. “ **HOW ABOUT I GIVE YOU A HINT? I ONLY ASK FOR A SMALL _FAVOR_ IN RETURN.** ” His eye turned blue at the word “favor” and his hand lit up in blue flames before he blinked and shut his hand.

“I would never do a favor for you!” Stanford snapped. “You don’t make good on your deals!”

Bill phased into the Space Shack and then rose up out of the roof behind Stanford. “ **I ALWAYS MAKE GOOD ON MY DEALS, SIXER! REMEMBER ALL THOSE CONSPIRACIES I HELPED YOU FIND? THE SECRETS OF GRAVITY FALLS, ALL WITHOUT YOUR GREAT UNCLE SUSPECTING A THING!** ” He shrugged. “ **WELL, IF YOU EVER CHANGE YOUR MIND-** ” Bill reached into Stanford’s head and took out a blue replicate of his brain. It fizzled away in a puff of flame. **“-I’LL BE HERE FOR YOU! READY TO MAKE A DE-AL!** ” A casino three-slot spinning machine appeared in his front. He waved his hand like a crank. The spots all turned to a blue six-fingered hand outline. Bill returned to normal. “ **HEY! WANT TO HEAR MY IMPRESSION OF YOU IN THREE SECONDS?** ” Bill prompted. He waved his hands with a wide eye and screamed.

Bill vanished, and Stanford woke up, screaming, On the roof. He blinked and looked about. Daylight streamed through the trees and the birds flew about. Stanford looked down to the open laptop on his lap. His feet felt numb as his blood circulation cut-off. He narrowed his eyes, shut the laptop, and got back up.

 

In the kitchen, Stanley and Grunkle Dipper had breakfast. Grunkle Dipper, reading the newspaper, greeted, “Good morning, Ford! I thought you’d nev–whoa! Looks like _someone_ hasn’t been sleeping well. Or did your dreams punch you in the face?”

“Ugh! Bro!” Stanley groaned. “I told you to get some sleep last night!”

“I did!” Stanford defended.

“Liar.”

Stanford took Stanley’s hand and dragged him into the next room. Once he was sure they were out of their uncle’s sight and hearing, he let go of his brother. “Stanley, listen. Last night, I had a dream with Bill in it.”

“Whoa, wait! You mean, the triangle guy?” He put his fingers together over one eye to make a triangle.

Stanford nodded. The action dizzied him a bit. “Yeah. He said he’d give me the password to the computer if I gave _him_ something! Heh. As if I’d trust him.”

“Don’t worry, bro!” Stanley stated. “Today’s the day the Mystery Twins are back in action! I’ll help you out with that password! I just need to hand the puppets off to my production crew.”

“Production crew?” Stanford asked, narrowing his eyes. That meant… production crew, right? Darnit! He couldn’t function tired! He couldn’t even recall the definition of “production crew”!

 

Outside, Susan and Ivan had their hands full of boxes with puppets and props. In the background, Dan and Fiddleford set up a larger prop on top of Grunkle Dipper’s car. Ivan piped up, “We read the script very thoroughly!”

Susan nodded. “I cried, like, eight times.”

“Hey, guys.” Gabe Bensen roller skated around to their house. “Just checkin’ in with you. How’s the show going?”

“Really good,” Stanley replied. “It’s going to be perfect.”

“So refreshing to hear!” Gabe agreed. His smile turned into a scowl. “Unlike that girl from last night’s puppet show. Single stitch on one puppet, cross stitch on the other. It was a nightmare!”

“Cross wha…?”

“Naturally, I deleted her from my contacts and hated the show.”

“Oh, yeah. Naturally,” Stanley agreed with a nod.

“Well, looking forward to the performance! Bye!” Gabe turned and roller skated away.

“Oh my gosh!” Stanley groaned and turned to them. “We need to seriously up our game! Did you hear that thing about the stitches?!”

“Don’t worry,” Susan said with a shake of her head. “We have you covered! …you know what a cross-stitch is, right?”

Ivan attempted to shift the box in his hands but ended up dropping it. He managed to catch it before it hit the ground, but a few sock puppets fell out. “Oh no!”

Behind them, Fiddleford stood on top of the large amount of things on Grunkle Dipper’s car. One of the straps broke and threw him, along with most of the objects, off. Dan immediately went to help him.

“Okay. We’re back on the job.” Stanley picked up a box and ran to the house.

Stanford grabbed him by the arm, causing Stanley to drop his box of puppets. “Wait! What about the password?”

“Ford! This situation just became an emergency! The laptop can wait!” With that, Stanley gathered up the socks on the ground.

“Stanley, wait! Do you _honestly_ think that your petty competition is more important than uncovering the secrets of Gravity Falls?!” Stanley glared back at him. Stanford went on, “You’re obsessed!”

“ _I’M_ obsessed?!” Stanley stood up, causing Stanford to take a step back. “Look at you! You look like a vampire! Not even the cool kind!”

Stanford rubbed his eyes. “But you said you were going to help me! You know what? _FINE!_ I don’t need your help! I don’t need anyone’s help! I’ll figure this out on my own!” Stanford snapped and stalked off, hands curled into fists. Stanley watched him go, his own anger lost. Still, he picked up his box and ran off, Susan and Ivan at heel.

 

Stanford sat cross-legged beneath the stained-glass window of one room in the attic. He typed in passwords continuously. Each one came up with a beep. “Grrr–Stanley. Is. Useless.” The computer beeped each time it was pressed. “Oh man…” He yawned and shut his eyes. He felt his body rock forward a bit. Maybe just a small nap…

“Too many failed entries,” the computer beeped.

“WHAT?!” Stanford sat up and opened his eyes.

“Initiate Data Erase in 5 minutes.” The screen switched to “ONE ENTRY REMAINING” in green letters while a large red clock and the time was at the bottom. “05:00” … “04:59” … “04:58”.

“No. No! NO!” Stanford yelped and grabbed the laptop. “I’m going to lose _everything?!_ I only have _one more try?!_ ”

The room faded from orange and red to shades of gray. Stanford stumbled away from the window. Bill appeared, cross legged and arms out as if meditating, in the window. “ **WELL, WELL, WELL!** ” His voice echoed. Bill opened his eye and floated into the room, hands behind his back and facing away from Stanford. “ **SOMEONE’S LOOKING DESPERATE~!** ”

“I thought I told you to leave me alone!” Stanford snapped.

Bill turned around. “ **I CAN HELP YA, KID!** ” He summoned a cane and then, two hands on its top, set it on the floor and leaned on it. “ **YOU JUST NEED TO HEAR OUT MY DEMANDS!** ”

Stanford glanced at the laptop, which still ticked down, and then to Bill. “A-alright! What is it? Why do you want to help me? I never even summoned you!”

“You didn’t summon me last time, Sixer.”

“You helped Gideon!”

“ **I HAD TO! HE SUMMONED ME! BY RULES OF A DEMON, I HAVE TO GO TO THOSE WHO SUMMON ME.** ” Bill hesitated. “ **TECHNICALLY, I WASN’T _SUPPOSED_ TO GO TO YOU, BUT KID I COULDN’T RESIST!** ”

“What?” Stanford cocked his head. “You mean you were forced to help Gideon?”

“ **YEP.** ”

“Then wouldn’t you still be helping him?”

“ **NOPE! HE CALLED THE DEAL OFF.** ” The edges of his eye raised a bit. “ **THAT’S WHY I CAME BACK TO YOU! I CAN STILL BE YOUR MUSE, STANFORD! I CAN HELP YOU UNLOCK THE SECRETS OF THE UNIVERSE! I DID LAST TIME, DIDN’T I?** ”

“W-well, I did learn a lot…”

“ **YEP!** ”

“You didn’t hurt Grunkle Dipper, either.”

“ **NOT A SINGLE FLECK OF DEAD SKIN ON HIS BODY!** ”

“I still don’t trust you,” Stanford stated. “B-but, but I do need that laptop. Okay. Okay, I’ll make you a deal. You help me, I’ll call our previous deal back on. Is that okay?”

“ **SURE THING!** ” Bill held out his hand, which burst into pretty blue fire. “ **JUST LET ME INTO YOUR MIND, STANFORD.** ”

Stanford took Bill’s hand. Deceptively cool fire flared over Stanford’s hand and arm. At one time, he might have been frightened by this. But he’d felt this fire before. “So, you’ll give me a hint?”

“ **YEP!** ” Bill cackled. Bill pulled Stanford’s hand back and threw him back. Stanford screamed as he tumbled, weightless, into the air. He blinked and looked down. His body lay limp against the edge of the sill, head down and chest unmoving. He looked down at what should be his chest. He was translucent, now, and much paler. In fact, he glowed a light blue. “What? What the–this can’t be happening!” He stuck his hand through his own stomach and pulled it out. He didn’t feel a thing. He wasn’t in his own body anymore. He was in the mindscape. “B-but we had a deal!”

His physical chest expanded as a new life breathed into it. With a soft cackle, Stanford’s physical body pulled itself to its feet. His eyes became a pale yellow and his pupils turned into slits. A smile wider than Stanford had ever possessed spread across his features. “ **Sorry, kid, but you’re _my_ puppet now!** ” Bill cried, picked up the laptop, and smashed it into the ground. His foot cracked down on the laptop, utterly destroying it. He cackled in sadistic glee as the various parts of the machine scattered.

“Ooooh my gosh! This can’t be happening!” Stanford looked down at his hands and then at Bill, who was controlling his physical body. “Oh, why am I so stupid?!”

He stood in front of the mirror and straightened himself out, hands on his hips. Bill laughed, “ **Oh, man, Kid, you really need to smarten up. Stop making your brother look good in comparison!** ” Bill slapped himself twice and laughed, this somehow being funnier than staggering about. “ **Whoo! Ha-ha-ha! Pain is hilarious!** ” He looked down at his six-fingered hands.

“I-I don’t understand!” Stanford stumbled over his words. “Why are you doing this?! I thought we had a deal!” That was grasping at straws, but it was worth a try… right?

Bill turned to him, then. “ **Look, kid,** ” Bill shrugged. “ **You’ve been getting too close to finding some major answers.** ” He rolled his hands together. “ **I’ve got big plans comin’.** ” He pointed at Stanford. **“-and I don’t need you getting in my way! Destroying that laptop was a synch! Now I just need to destroy your scrapbook!** ” He perked up and hopped to the top of the stairs. “ **Race you to the bottom of the stairs!** ” He stood up straight and tipped himself back so that he fell down the entire flight of stairs.

Stanford grimaced. Oh no. That was definitely a concussion. Stanford dipped into the floor and then tumbled to regain his balance. He looked about and zoomed into the kitchen. “Hey!”

Bill, hair and clothes a bit ruffled from the fall, pulled out a can of soda. “ **Ha! Soda! I’m going to drink it like a person!** ” He tipped his head back and laughed as he poured it over his mouth and eyes. Drowning was a possibility as he seemed to be breathing it in. Since he wasn’t on the floor, though, Stanford could only hope that he wasn’t actually drowning.

Bill shambled over to the silverware drawer, stuck his hand into it, and closed it on himself repeatedly. “ **So, where do you keep that scrapbook, anyway? Boy! These arms are _durable!_** ”

“I’ve hidden it!” Stanford denied. Bill held his elbow in one hand and put his other hand on his chin. Forks stuck out of his arm. Oh, that was going to leave a mark. Bill watched him with the amusement an adult would have over a child defending himself after writing ‘3’ backwards. “It’s somewhere you will never find it!”

“Hey, Ford!” They turned to see Stanley in the doorway. “I borrowed your scrapbook to use as a prop in the show! Talk to you about it later! Okay, bye!” Then, he was gone.

Bill cackled. “ **Sure! Sounds great, brother! I’ll see you at the show!** ” He tromped out of the kitchen to go out into the yard.

“No, wait! Stanley! Don’t listen to him!” Stanford yelled and flew into the back yard. “Ugh! Gosh darnit! Stupid Mindscape nonsense!”

Bill cackled, “ **Now you know how I feel every day for trillions of years, Sixer. You can only be heard with a vessel.** ”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Oh, hey, Ford! There you are!” Fiddleford waved at him from the porch.

Dan climbed down the steps. “What up, dude?”

Fiddleford stopped beside Bill. “We’re heading to the theater.”

Dan prompted, “You need a Ride?”

“ **O-ho! Anything for you, Red!** ” Bill strolled over to Dan’s truck. Dan gave him an odd look. Fiddleford whispered something to him, most likely about being _really_ tired. Dan nodded and jumped into the front seat.

“Grr–I’m going to stop you, Bill!” Stanford called and flew up to the back seat window. “I will find that scrapbook _and stop you!_ ”

“ **How can you stop me,** ” Bill stated and turned his head to him. “ **When you don’t exiiiiiiiist?** ” Stanford could hear him laughing, even when the window was rolled up and the truck moved away.

 

Stanford finally found his way to the theater. Things were getting dark. “Music Mittens: A Sock Concert by Stanley Pines”. _“I need to get my body back before he does something crazy with it!”_ Stanford dove into the theater.

“ **Aw nothing like the theater, eh?** ” Bill prompted to Dan. Dan, Ivan, and Bill were in the front row next to Grunkle Dipper. He looked over at Ivan. “ **Hey, Ivan! Wanna hear the exact time and date of your death?** ”

Ivan tipped his head. “How would you know that?”

“Hey, guys!” Stanley ran out to stand in front of them. “You all made it!”

Grunkle Dipper, sitting next to Ivan huffed, “Are you kidding me? I’d never miss something like… this!”

Bill sat up straight. “ **By the by, Stanley, where’d you put my scrapbook again?** ”

Stanley replied, “I used it as a prop for the wedding scene! I still need a reverend, though.”

“ **Hey, what if I play the reverend? I mean, _someone’s_ gotta hold that book, right?** ”

“Right! Let’s go!”

Bill jumped out of his seat and ran after Stanley.

“Oh no! Wait! Stanley!” Stanford cried and flew after them

Stanley peeked out from behind the curtains to see Gabe sit down, his bee and book puppet in his hands.

Susan blinked the lights. “The show is about to begin! Please turn off all phones!” The lights dimmed completely. A few people–Ivan and a few people next to him–clapped.

The curtains pulled back to show a representation of the Space Shack. For the speed at which it was built, and how little a help Stanford turned out to be, it was impressive.

Fiddleford stood on stage with an electric keyboard.

 

Stanford walked up behind Susan. Bill now wore a black tux, which seemed to turn into a cape as it dragged down to his feet. “ **So! Suzy! Where’s that book prop I’m using in the wedding scene?** ”

“It’s up in the wedding cake.” Susan pointed to the wedding cake prop, which was probably big enough to hold Stanley and Stanford, being held up by a rope just out of sight of the audience. “But that doesn’t come down until Act 3. So please be patient! Read your lines in the meantime.” With that, Susan turned back to the play, clipboard clutched in her hand and head phones readjusted on her head.

Bill narrowed his eyes at her and walked backwards, though his smile did not leave him. “ **Oh, I’ll be patient. I’ll be patient.** ” His smile was gone as he glared at Susan. “ **You monster.** ” With that, he turned and ran off.

Stanford swooped down in front of Susan. “Have you seen Stanley?” Susan checked her earpiece, shrugged, and turned her attention to the play. Stanley put a hand to his head. “Okay, what did Bill say? I can’t be heard without a vessel?” He looked about. “Where would I find a-?” Stanford stopped and turned his gaze on a pile of puppets nearby. For the first time in a week, Stanford smiled.

 

Soon, the curtains closed, and the crowd clapped. Susan called over the microphone, “Our intermission has begun! Mill about!” Some people got up and walked around.

 

Stanley walked into his dressing room. He took a drink of water and washed off his face. “Okay, you can do this, Stanley! Just thirty-six more musical numbers! Should be easy!”

Puppet Stanford floated up so that he was eye level with Stanley. “Psst! Stanley!”

He jumped back and ended up falling. “Ah! It’s come to life! The puppet books didn’t warn me about _this!_ ” He threw a fork at the puppet, which stuck in his head.

“Stanley! It’s me, Stanford! You need to help me!” Stanford disregarded the fork thrown at him and waved his little string arms.

“Wait, what? Ford?” Stanley stood up, round eyes watching the puppet’s every move. “But… you’re a _sock._ ”

“Stanley, you’ve got to listen to me. Bill tricked me! He stole my body and he’s after the scrapbook. You have to find the scrapbook before Bill destroys it! It’s my only hope to get back in my body!”

“But my cue’s coming up any moment, now!” Stanley denied. _He’s worried about his cue. He’s worried about his gosh darn cue?! Did he not SEE Stanford?! Was he not understanding any of this!?_

The door knocked, and Gabe opened the door. “Do you have a minute?” Stanley spun around, grabbed Stanford’s sock puppet, and hid it behind his back.

“Agk! Ow! Stanley!” Stanford hissed between clenched teeth, struggling as his arm was twisted at an odd angle.

Gabe walked in and went on, “As far as I can tell, you went full-hog on this play. If you stick the landing, then, well… I guess I’ll have to take back my words. We can talk.”

The lights flickered. Stanford still struggled in Stanley’s grasp. Gabe left.

“Did you hear that?! He loves it!” Stanley gasped. He put his fist in his hand, effectively letting go of Stanford. “This play has to be flawless!” He turned to Stanford. “Can’t we wait until after the show?”

“Stanley! Do you want me to be a sock puppet _forever?!_ ” Stanford snapped.

Stanley chuckled. “I’m sorry. You look funny when you’re mad.” Stanley picked up the Stanley sock puppet. “Okay, okay, okay. Just take over for me while I go and get the book.”

*          *          *          *          *

When Fiddleford left one of the stage rooms and walked behind the curtain, Stanford was there. Fiddleford gasped. He sighed in relief upon seeing who it was, but then tensed and bit his tongue. The thirteen-year-old twin of Stanley born in New Jersey physically stood before him. Yet, this couldn’t be Stanford. A painfully wide grin dressed the boy’s features. Fiddleford could swear his eyes flashed yellow and pupils turned funny if the light was just right.

“ **What’s that look for, Specs?** ” Stanford laughed, somehow able to bare every one of his teeth in that weird grin.

 _That’s not Stanford._ The alarming thought rang through his head. The memory of the shape-shifter popped into his mind.

Fiddleford started to move. However, Stanford caught him. His arm wrapped around Fiddleford. His fingers tangled in the cloth of his sleeve and held on tight. Fiddleford winced and let out a tiny, strangled whimper upon being held in such a way. “ **Don’t look so down, Specs,** ” Stanford stated, his voice a devilish coo. “ **Not like you’d ever turn down a hug, right?** ”

As much as Fiddleford wanted to call him out, the tight “hug” Stanford held him in was starting to cut off blood flow in his arm and compress his ribs. “F-Ford,” he wheezed. “Yer crushin’ me, here.”

There was a pause before Stanford laughed. His grip didn’t slacken. “ **You’re hilarious!** ” His head turned, then, as if he’d been called.

…

“ **And are you going to make me?** ” Stanford cackled.

…

 “ **I know.** ” Stanford’s grip got tighter. Fiddleford tried squirming out of his grasp, but failed. Stanford wasn’t normally that strong, was he?

“Let go, please,” Fiddleford gasped. He tried to push forward to slip out of his grasp that way, but Stanford had coiled an arm around his back and hooked his hand over the front of Fiddleford’s right arm, keeping his left arm pinned between them. When he tried backing out… somehow, he couldn’t get out. He couldn’t escape. He couldn’t escape. He _couldn’t escape._ The young teen’s breaths grew sharper as he started to hyperventilate. “S-Stanford, please. Y-you’re scarin’ me,” he whimpered, again trying in futility to get away.

“ **Am I?** ” Stanford asked, cocking his head to the side. “ **I’m sorry.** ” His grip grew tighter around him, if that was possible. “ **I wanted to see how long it’d take for you to pass out. What do you think? Thirty seconds? A minute? Oooh! I think thirty seconds is a safe be-et!** ” Fiddleford’s struggles started to weaken as an insignificant amount of air struggled to pass through his lungs.

…

“ **I wouldn’t kill him,** ” Stanford purred. “ **Well, I wasn’t. But that isn’t a half bad idea.** ” His hand let go of Fiddleford’s arm. Fiddleford gasped more than a lung full of much needed air and tried to slip out from under him. Fiddleford regretted this decision immediately as Stanford’s arm slipped from around his upper side to around his neck.

…

“ **But he’s turning such a fun shade of blue,** ” Stanford complained, his eyes never leaving Fiddleford as the oxygen deprived boy started to change color.

…

“ **Nice try. I know where the scrapbook is,** ” Stanford cackled. “ **Oh, how fun! How _dramatic!_ Will Sixer find a way to save his friend or will his own folly _kill_ his dearest?**”

“Stanford!” Stanley yelled from further backstage. “Your cue’s about to come up! Where are you?”

Stanford let go of Fiddleford, who immediately crumpled like a broken puppet. Fiddleford gasped and coughed. He flinched and shied away from Stanford as he set a hand on the ground by Fiddleford’s face. “ **That was fun. See you after the play.** ” With a dark chuckle, Stanford moseyed off in the direction of Stanley. “ **Coming, brother!** ”

*          *          *          *          *

Bill stood on the catwalk, a face-cracking grin on his features. Stanley, the scrapbook in his hands, stood just on the other side. Bill chuckled. “ **Mackerel, it’s so good to see you.** ”

“Can it, Bill!” Stanley hissed. “Get out of my brother’s body, you triangle jerk!”

Bill laughed. “ **Wow! Nice insult. I’m really hurt. How long did it take you to come up with that?** ”

Stanley glowered at him, struggling to come up with a comeback.

Bill chuckled. “ **As fun as this is, I’m on a schedule. I’m going to have to need you to hand over that scrapbook.** ” He held out his hand.

“No! It’s Ford’s!” Stanley denied. “I’m not handing it over to _you._ ”

“ **Pity.** ” Bill looked down at the play in action. “ **Is that Six-Fingers down there? So that’s why he hasn’t been bothering me. Maybe I should talk to him instead.** ” Stanford grasped the catwalk and threw his legs over the beam.

“No, wait!” Stanley gasped and ran forward. “Wait, wait! I’ll give it to you.”

“ **Oh! Maybe you’ve got a working brain cell in your head after all.** ” Bill, still on the railing, ready to fall at any moment, held out his hand. “ **Now, hand me the scrapbook.** ” Stanley looked down at the book and then at Bill. He shifted his weight. Bill’s grin wavered in his annoyance. “ **Do I have to spell it out for you? Get over here and hand me that book or I’ll throw your brother off this catwalk and _kill him._** ”

Stanley sighed. “Fine.”

Bill took the book in one hand. “ **There we go! That wasn’t so hard, was it?** ”

“Nope.” Stanley took Bill by the collar and jerked him back. He gagged as the collar of his suit dug into his neck and he was thrown over the railing and back onto the catwalk. Stanley grabbed the scrapbook and stomped on Bill’s shoulder. “You’re gunna have to try harder than that, triangle!” he laughed as he ran off.

Bill snarled in hate and ran after him.

Stanley paused at the top of the stairs to jeer at him but yelped as Bill ran into him. They tumbled into a pile of boxes on a landing not too far down and struggled with the book.

“ **I’m a being of pure energy with no weakness!** ” Bill snapped, grabbed the book in both hands, planted both feet on Stanley’s stomach, and pushed. Stanley, not letting go of the book, was thrown off his feet and fell hard on his back. Bill tumbled after him. The two landed in a hard heap on the ground, Stanley’s back on the hard cement and Stanford trying to pry the book from his fingers.

“Yeah?” Stanley wheezed and flipped over. He let go of the scrapbook long enough to grab Bill by the forearms and force him to the ground. “And I’m his brother. You’re in Stanford’s body, now, and I know his weaknesses.”

Bill attempted to get up. He looked down at his arms and then at Stanley. “ **What? No! No, let go of me!** ”

Stanley smirked and narrowed his eyes. “Not so fun not bein’ in charge, is it?” Stanley lost his smirk. “Now get out of my brother’s body, you stupid triangle!”

 _“Stanley be careful!”_ Stanford puppet groaned. The curtain had been drawn as the scene changed.

“How do I get him out of you or whatever?” Stanley prompted, still struggling to keep his twin pinned.

_“I-I–uh! We could try that spell or-or–”_

“ **I-I-I! Uh-uh!** ” Bill sneered. “ **Or what, huh? _Huh?_ Ha! You are pathetic, the two of you. It’s almost sad taking your precious scrapbook away.** ”

“We don’t need the scrapbook to be good!” Stanley countered.

Bill raised an eyebrow at him. “ **Really? Right, let me guess: _Brainiac_ over here does all the thinking you need, and I guess he didn’t tell you all he has is from this scrapbook? Wow. I knew you were dumb, but you _are_ just a pathetic excuse for a kid, brother even! I’d say I can’t believe you’d ditch your brother for a dumb competition, but it’s just like you to abandon your family when you need them for own selfish desires!** ”

Stanley, his agitation at the constant barrage of insults getting the better of him, raised a fist. Bill’s grin got larger. Stanley stopped and looked back. Fiddleford held his fist with both hands, his wide blue eyes on him. “Wait!”

“Fidds?”

Fiddleford let go, allowing Stanley to regain his grip on his possessed brother. “That dream demon is possessing Bill’s mind and body. If we overwhelm his mind, w-we might be able to force him out!”

Bill looked at Fiddleford. “ **Hey, Specs! Good to see you again! Funny, I was convinced you’d run away and hide like the sniveling coward you are.** ”

“Ignore him,” Stanley stated. “Now, what do you have that’ll do that, anyway?”

“ **Yeah, ignore me!** ” Bill agreed. “ **Just like they ignore you! Just like Stanford ignores all of your warnings and advice! Just like everyone ignores you when you talk about the monsters in Gravity Falls! Just like your own _father_ , who doesn’t care enough about you to _-_!** ” Bill stopped talking as Stanley slapped a hand over his face. Unfortunately, the damage had already been done.

Fiddleford had one hand in his pocket, but he’d frozen. He stared at Bill with round, watery eyes. Stanley snapped, “Ignore him! He’s only trying to hurt you! Now help me get this stupid demon out of my brother!”

Fiddleford gulped and pulled out a pink package. “Ah-Ah remember Stanford tellin’ me what this did to ya. Maybe this’ll o-overwhelm him.”

“Smile Dip?” Stanley echoed.

“Yes. Ah don’t know how we’ll be able to make him eat-” Fiddleford cut himself off as the package was swiped from his hand.

Stanley turned to Bill, shifted so that his weight was keeping Bill down, and held one hand on his chin. Before Bill could remark on how stupid this plan was, Stanley tore open a corner of the package with his teeth and shoved it down his possessed brother’s throat.

 _“STANLEY, ARE YOU INSANE?!”_ Stanford puppet cried, throwing his little string arms in the air.

Stanley clamped Bill mouth shut. The wet and empty candy wrapper landed on the floor next to him. “Okay, Fiddleford, keep the play going! I don’t want anyone suspicious of anything!”

“Okay!” Fiddleford ran onto the stage and started collecting the puppets as well as a script.

 Bill struggled under Stanley but, as his eyes unfocused and his pink-tinted saliva foamed, he no longer barked at Stanley. Instead, he struggled to keep control of the boy’s body. Finally, after one last wheezing, hacking cough drawing out the threat of imminent death to the Pines family as a whole, Bill fainted.

Stanley got off him. “Hey, Ford? Can you hear me? Ford?”

Stanford put a hand to his head. He groaned and clutched his stomach. “Ag, ow, everything hurts.” He gagged and got up on his shoulder. Stanley backed off to avoid being covered in pink vomit.

Nearby, the Stanford puppet came to life. “ **THIS ISN’T THE LAST YOU’LL SEE OF ME!** ” Bill cackled. “ **BIG THINGS ARE COMING! YOU CAN’T STOP ME!** ”

Stanley punched the possessed sock as hard as he could, causing it to fall back onto the wooden floor.

“I’m sorry, guys.” Stanley took out a remote labeled “Big Finish” and pressed it. Behind them, fireworks and explosives went off. The crowd screamed in surprise as the indoor-fireworks burst and crackled and sent colored smoke everywhere. A few crashed into the puppet boxes, causing burning puppets to fly everywhere. Gabe watched the fiery sock rain with absolute horror.

Finally, the last explosion went off, washing the stage and front rows in smoke. Stanley helped Stanford up. “Don’t worry! This is the part where everyone thinks it’s part of the show and claps!”

The crowd booed and, grumbling about how they nearly died, stalked out of the theater. Gabe stood up and, throwing a disgusted glare at Stanley, stalked off and started making out with his puppets.

Stanford watched him go. “Was he… making out with his puppets?”

“Yep,” Stanley replied.

Stanford sighed and turned to him. “I’m sorry about the puppets, by the way. If I hadn’t made that deal, your puppets wouldn’t have gotten ruined.”

“Well, one of them survived,” Stanley offered and pulled out a puppet of himself. “And he has something to say to you.” As a puppet, Stanley said, “I’m sorry, Ford. I spent all week obsessing over a dumb guy. But the dumb guy I should have cared about was you!” Stanley bopped him in the side of the head with the sock’s head. “Mystery twins?” He raised a fist.

“Mystery twins.” Stanford fist bumped him and then hissed in pain. “Agk! What did he do to my body?”

“It’s nothin’ a little sleep can’t fix,” Stanley waved his hand and walked off.

“Seriously, I think I need to go to the hospital,” Stanford wheezed.

“Why is that?” The two stopped as Grunkle Dipper met them at the edge of the stage, arms crossed. He… did not look happy. “What happened to you two?”

Ivan and Dan joined them. Ivan nodded. “That wasn’t part of the play!”

Dan crossed his arms with a shrug. “Yeah. I nearly got my face blown off.”

Stanley looked back at his severely injured twin and then back at Grunkle Dipper. “It’s… a long story?”

“Dan,” Grunkle Dipper piped up. “Could you please bring these two home? I’ll drop off Susan, Ivan, and Fiddleford. You two stay at the kitchen table.”

“Yes, Mr. Pines.” Dan waved his hand and left.

“Yes, Grunkle Dipper.” The forlorn boys followed Dan.

Grunkle Dipper walked behind the stage, Fiddleford and Ivan trailing behind him.

 

When they got home, Stanford immediately sat down and held his aching head. Stanley sat down beside him, kicking his legs. “So… what are we going to tell him?”

Stanford opened one eye. “If we tell him Bill did it, he’ll probably take that scrapbook away permanently or something, if he even believes us. I don’t know.” Gompers bleated beneath Stanford. “Not now, Gompers. I’m sorry.”

“Then we just don’t tell him,” Stanley agreed.

“Easy for you to say,” Stanford grumbled. “I think I’m dying or something.”

Stanley shrugged. “’Guess he’ll just patch you up or somethin’.”

The door opened. Grunkle Dipper walked into the kitchen wielding a first aid kit. “Sit still, Stanford. I’m going to look you over, okay?” Stanford sat up straight. “Come over here and help me with this, Stanley. Does it hurt if I–okay, it does.”

For the next hour, Grunkle Dipper checked him over and, with Stanley’s help, bandaged him up. He told them stories about when he was younger and how much trouble he got in. One time he got in a fight and ended up with a broken arm, black eye, and a concussion. It took a while to heal, and it was not only painful but annoying, but he healed. Sometimes, he went off on stories about how Stanford and Stanley’s father got into fights as well.

Eventually, Stanford was all bandaged up and his fingers were set. “Now, Don’t move about too much and don’t use this hand or you’ll mess it up.” He got up and started taking out supplies from the cabinets and fridge. “I’m making something to drink. You’re going to have to stay up a while longer. Stanford? When’s your birthday?”

“June 14th,” Stanford answered.

“Good. Pay attention. I’ll be asking you easy questions, okay?” He put a pot of water onto boil. “Now, can either of you tell me what happened?”

Stanley and Stanford stayed silent.

Grunkle Dipper didn’t look back at them. “If someone hurt you, you’d tell me, right?”

Stanley nodded. “Yeah.”

“Did someone attack you?”

“…”

Grunkle Dipper prepared something next to the stove. “I understand. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” He sighed and dropped something in the boiling water. “What’s your last name, Ford?”

“Pines,” Stanford answered.

Eventually, he set down three mugs of hot cocoa, all three decorated handsomely with half-melted marshmallows. “Chocolate helps with anything,” Grunkle Dipper informed them, his smile returning. “But after this, you’re going straight to bed, Stanford. Stanley: You’re going to come with me back to the theater to clean up that mess. Dan agreed to stay, so if you need any help, he’ll be here. Oh, and remember: get some sleep. Don’t stay up like this again. What did I just give you, Ford?”

Ford looked down at the cup. “Hot cocoa.”

“Good.” Grunkle Dipper took a sip of his own hot drink.

 

Dan helped Stanford up the stairs and then leaned on the wall outside of the bedroom door once they got to the attic. Stanford was asleep almost before he lay down. At the theater, Stanley swept up the destruction. Susan, Ivan, and Fiddleford came by on occasion to help. Grunkle Dipper spoke with the people who owned the stage. For the most part, it was Stanley cleaning it up.

 

TCTN JH KR UVV PBB! FU, JB KKJG TDTS, PRVF GRTGVVTSU ESCKKFF!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very bad, this is not good at all. I’d think that Stanford might get persuaded back into helping if tricked into believing Bill was forced to go against him. Gaining all the knowledge in the universe is a good enough deal, right? Now, I know what you’re thinking: “Ford wouldn’t be that dumb!” Eh, he kinda would be. Really now, I’m sure he’s learned his lesson and won’t be doing that again. Entertaining the thought of him getting back into the deal, you can only guess what their “original deal” was.
> 
>  
> 
> 4: _Tcdhpbv Kbg Shfb Uhdszyjbx Kja Kkjg Nkpzv Wjav, Kbg Yh Ock?_


	5. Little Giftshop of Horrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s getting dark out and a **t** hunderstorm is rolling in. So of course your car decides to break down in the middle of nowhere! Thankfully, there’s a fr **i** endly looking cabin in the woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find it on dA:

Static, crackling thunder rumbles overhead. The trees bow down, their prickly arms reaching toward you as you drive. Your car whines at you. Lights blink. Before you know it, your car is stopped on the side of the road, unable to crawl forward anymore. You growl and smack your steering wheel. Curse your luck! Still, you can’t stay here, not in a storm like this.

The lonely country road you travel ends when you come across a cabin. It’s dark but decorated with painted stars. A light nearby illuminates the door. You knock. After a moment or two, the door opens. Standing in the doorway is a man in a blue trench coat. Stars speckled the trench coat and a silver shirt glows beneath it. His hair was brushed back to reveal a birthmark in the shape of a constellation. The, uh, big dipper?

“Ah! Hello, there!” the man greets you, trying his best to give you a bright smile. “The Space Shack’s closed but… it looks like your car’s broken down. Hmm. Come in! Come in, get out of the storm.” He stands back and gestures inside. You walk in. The place is open and, despite being small, the tall, rounded roof above gives off the illusion of space. “Yep. This place is usually full of stars. But, to save power, they’re not on right now.”

Nearby, a voice breaks the otherwise silent house. “Grunkle Dipper!” the call comes from farther in the house. It sounds like a young boy.

“Ri–” Mr. Pines turned to look at the entrance. “Yeah, Lee?”

“Eck! Gompers just ate my-” The boy cuts himself off. A thirteen-year-old boy stands at the entrance to the planetarium. Despite the time, the boy wears regular street clothes–a red and white striped shirt and jeans. “Who’s that? You tryin’ to sneak in here after the Shack’s closed?”

At this, Mr. Pines glances at you. You introduce yourself.

 _Logically_ , after hearing your name, the boy raises an eyebrow. “What kinda name is that?”

“Lee,” Mr. Pines snips, though he doesn’t look angry at all.

“Yeah, hey, sorry.” Lee holds up his hands. You prompt him on his name. “The names Stanley.” You ask about his nickname. “Why do I go by Lee? Why does anyone go by anything?” Stanley scoffs.

“His brother’s name is Stanford,” Mr. Pines explains. “They’re twins.”

“Ah-hah. Yeah. Ford’s pretty–wait. Yeah, hey, Grunkle Dipper! Gompers ate my jacket and Ford refuses to acknowledge it.”

“Stanley, he did _not!_ ” This voice, similar to Stanley’s, comes from the direction in which Stanley had just been. “Gompers didn’t do anything wrong!”

Now the boy spun around to glare into the hallway. “Then what happened to my jacket, huh?” You looked at Mr. Pines. Should you even be here right now?

“Okay.” Mr. Pines sighs. “It’s past bed time, you two, and we have a guest over.”

Then Stanley pouts. “He still ruined my jacket.”

“Look, _you_ left it outside. A raccoon probably got it,” Stanford scoffs, his voice a bit closer.

“Eh-heh. Anyway!” Mr. Pines turns back to you. “Do you want something to drink?”

“And can we tell stories?” Stanley immediately loses his grumpiness in favor of excitement.

Right beside him, a second boy pops up. Indeed, they were physical copies of each other, though the new one wore an aviator’s jacket, a white shirt, and square glasses. “Since we have a new guest over, it only makes sense.”

Now Mr. Pines sighs and smiles. “Yeah, sure. Do you want to listen to a few stories?” You nod in agreement. The thunderstorm was picking up outside. Even if you were to find a bed, it was much too loud to sleep.

Eventually, you and the three occupants of the House sit around the dining room table with hot cocoa, a favorite of the boys’. Mr. Pines looks at the two. “Okay. Do you two have any stories or am I going first?”

“Do I!” Stanley grins wider. “It’s a great one, too!”

“A great one?” Stanford looks skeptical. “You said that about the monster water story.”

“That was a good story! Shut up!” Stanley shoves him, nearly causing Stanford to fall out of his chair.

Hesitantly, Mr. Pines speaks up, “Alright, alright. Don’t shove your brother. Go on.”

Instantly, Stanley sits up straight and waves his hands. “This story’s called: ‘Hands Off!’”

*          *          *          *          *

Now, high in sky, the sun warmed the valley of Gravity Falls and everything in it–including the swapmeet. A fence surrounded a rather large marketplace of temporary booths. Plastered over a sign that hung above the gate were the words “GRAVITY FALLS” “SWAP MEET” under that in smaller words: “‘WHERE PARKING LOTS MEET GARBAGE DUMPS!’” Balloons, three purple and one gold on one side and three gold and one purple on the other, hung from the sign.

Grunkle Dipper led Stanley and Stanford into the busy marketplace that had cropped up overnight. While Stanford held a purple balloon and was content on looking over the place, Stanley sauntered through the marketplace. “Wouldja look at all this! Complete crap that people managed to make into something you could sell!”

Stanford scoffed, “You’d be great here.”

“Shut up!”

Stanford looked over a booth seemingly empty of people. All kinds of gadgets lined the walls and desk. “Oooh! Look at all these machines. I wonder what they do!”

“Lots of things!” “Old Woman” Chui jumped up from under the desk, a wide, mad grin on her features.

Stanford screamed and fell back. The balloon in his hand drifted off.

Grunkle Dipper stopped beside a booth of glasses. “Oooh, I should probably get a pair of glasses, even if they’re not prescription.”

Stanley gasped and ran up to a booth covered in neatly organized gold watches. “Look at these faux-gold beauties!” he gasped. “They’re mob boss quality!” He looked up at the ancient crone who sat at the table, passively watching him look over her products. The magazine she held–“CRONE ALONE MAGAZINE”–“Witches Be Trippin’!”–was held far enough up to mask most of her face from the boy. Stanley ran up to his great uncle. “Hey, hey! Grunkle Dipper!” He lowered his voice so only his great uncle could hear. “If I get a good price on those watches, you think I could get one?”

“Depends on how much of what you earned you kept,” Grunkle Dipper pointed out, but followed Stanley nonetheless. Stanford, recovering from his miniature heart-attack and fall, joined his brother and great uncle by the stand.

Stanley looked back at his great uncle and brother. “Watch and learn how a pro deals.” He turned around and slapped his hand on the table. “Hey, Hag! How much for the junk watches?”

She leaned forward so that she looked down at him. After a quick glance up at his great uncle, she stated, “They are not for sale! Not for _you_ Stan Pines, great nephew of Mason! The wind whispers your names!” Stanford sucked in his breath and looked around while Grunkle Dipper kept his eyes on her.

A few yards away, in a booth labeled “SEV’RAL CHIMES”, the chimes clinked and sang in the wind. Gordy looked around at his merchandise. “Shush, you guys!”

Stanley pouted. “Alright, I get it, you’re creepy. Now can I have the watch?” He put down what he had in his pockets. When Grunkle Dipper saw it wasn’t possibly enough, he sighed, put down another bill and reached for it. The old crone snapped her hand out with impossible speed and grabbed their great uncle’s wrist. Her eyes glowed and rolled into the back of her head. “GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY WAAATCH!” she shrieked, her voice lowering in pitch.

“Agk! Hey!” Grunkle Dipper yelped and tore his hand out of her grasp. He turned around and walked off, sparing glanced behind him as he went. “Wow. That was something.”

Stanford nodded. “She needs to work on her social skills.”

Stanley smirked and whispered to his brother. “And her observation skills.” He held up his hand and clasped the watch onto his wrist. “Boom! Good job heisting hands!”

Stanford gasped, “Stanley, are you seriously shoplifting from a witch!? That sounded like a curse!”

Stanley rolled his eyes. “ _‘That sounded like a cu-urse!’_ Please, stop being a wet blanket!”

 

The next morning, Stanley slunk into the bathroom, yawning. “Heh. Curse? Yeah, right.” He looked up in the mirror and shrugged. “Heh. Looks like I got off scot-free.” He held up his hands–er, _arms._ Stanley’s eyes grew wide as arms ended in glowing stumps rather than hands.

 

Stanford and Stanley–hands behind his back–sat at the kitchen table. Grunkle Dipper set down a plate of eggs and bacon and sat down as well. “Good morning!” he yawned and shook himself. “Good dreams?”

Stanford stretched his arms. “Yeah, I guess.”

Stanley shrugged. “Nope. No dreams whatsoever.”

“Stanley?” Stanford looked at his brother. “Are you alright?”

“What? Pssh. Yeah, I’m alright. What would make you think I _wasn’t_ alright? Who looks not alright? You’re not alright! I mean, uh…”

Grunkle Dipper blinked. “When did you go to sleep last night?”

“I got enough sleep.” Stanley waved his hand. “Re–oh.”

Stanford and Grunkle Dipper yelled in surprise. “Hands!”

Grunkle Dipper gasped, “What happened to your hands?!”

Stanley shrugged. “Okay, maybe I got cursed a little. But hey! Neat watch, right?” He grinned and showed off the gold watch he was still wearing.

The witch appeared in the watch. “Foolish ma–boy? Thieving hands meet wicked fates–”

Stanley picked up a napkin in his mouth and set it over his wrist. The witch grumbled something but was inaudible under the napkin. “There!”

Stanford sighed. “Stanley, I told you: you _have_ to give that watch back and apologize.”

Stanley puffed, “What? That old hag should apologize to me for denying my right to buy cheap junk. I don’t need hands.” He threw off the napkin. “I’ve got self-respect!” He tried to pick up his orange juice, but the cup ended up falling out of his hands and spilling. Frowning, he looked at the nearest piece of bacon–which was on a fork–and tapped the fork. The bacon flew threw the air and hit him on the side of the face. “…Grunkle Dipper? You don’t happen to have a spare pair of hands, do you?”

 

Stanley sat on the couch outside, looking up at his great uncle as he walked up. “Okay, so, I’m not the _greatest_ crafter. But I remember when I was younger and broke one of my hands, my sister made me something like these.” He knelt and stuck two stump-aluminum-gloves with five forks taped to them. “There! They’ll probably work! Until the end of summer when your parents and Tyrone kill me for letting this happen.”

“Nice work, Grunkle Dipper!” Stanley admired his new hands. “See? Hands are overrated. I’m ready to take on the day.” He jumped up, grinning.

Susan, walking on the trail past the Space Shack holding a bag, looked over at the two on the porch. Stanley waved. “Susan.”

She started to speak until she saw his hands. Then, she screamed and ran off.

Undeterred and determined to prove himself right, Stanley went the rest of the day with his new hands. At the re-opened bowling alley, he tried to grip and roll a bowling ball. One of his hands stayed stuck in the holes of the heavy ball and fell back. Gordy tripped over it with a yelp, dropping his own ball. Hank gasped and threw his ball up. It hit the electronic scoreboard, which fell with a _crash._

At the grocery store, Grunkle Dipper held two liters of Pit Cola while Stanford held a shopping list. Stanley pushed the cart. A young teen–probably just old enough to work the job–appeared around the corner. “Hey, Lee!” He lifted a dozen eggs in his arms. “You wanna play ‘toss me a dozen eggs’ like we usually do?”

“What?” Stanley looked back and held his hands in front of him. “Wait, no!” Jimmy threw them. “Not today! Noo!” All dozen of the eggs splattered on him, causing him to slip and fall on his butt. Grunkle Dipper and Stanford watched him with matching expressions of disapproval. Stanley looked up at him and then sighed, “Let’s find that witch.”

 

The three of them stood before a spooky cave that overlooked the pine forest. Stanford held a pamphlet in his hands. “According to the Swap Meet pamphlet, the Hand Witch lives in a horrible Hand Witch lair on Hand Witch Mountain.”

Stanley, a flashlight taped to each hand-stump, cut in, “Stop saying Hand Witch.”

As they walked into the cave, a hand tapped Stanford’s shoulder. He shuttered and looked at his brother. “Stanley, stop tapping my shoulder! It’s creepy.”

Stanley raised an eyebrow at him and held out his “hands”. “Bro, does it look like I can tap anything?”

Two hands poked Grunkle Dipper, causing him to put his hands on his shoulders. “Can you stop tapping _both_ of my shoulders?” Something skittered over the wall.

Stanley raised his flashlight. The ceiling and walls shivered and moved and crawled not with insects, but with _hands._ Not a speck of dirt or stone was visible under the writhing sea of hands. The three screamed and attempted to run back. “Hands!” Stanley screamed. “Lots of hands!”

Grunkle Dipper, as they ran, punched hands that got too close. Unfortunately, not all could be deterred and one pounced on him. Their great uncle fell back and was soon covered in hands. Stanford fared no better. The hands that surrounded him hesitated when confronted by his own six-fingered hands. Then, they pounced and pinned him. Stanley was slapped a few times before being tripped and covered.

Their screaming was abruptly stopped upon hearing the echoing cackle of the witch. The old crone dressed in weird red and maroon robes that looked like hand prints hobbled from deeper in the cave, a lantern in her hand. The hands not pinning the Pines family swarmed her. “Look at this _touching_ scene!” She looked to her companions and held up a hand. “Up top!” The hand obeyed. She grinned and gestured around her. “You guys! You guys get me.”

Stanley sighed and spoke up, “Alright, you horrible wench, you got me.” He picked up his arm and shook off the watch. “Take it.” He shoved it toward her. “Now can I have my hands back? I have a certain gesture I wish to share with you.”

The witch stared at him for a moment. The hands crawled under her and created a throne that scampered toward them. “Alas your hands cannot be gotten so easily. The spirits say… um…” She picked up the watch and dropped it in her shirt. “–that the curse can only be broken…” She dangled her fingers in front of her. “–by a kiss! By the, uh, _guardian_ of the offender!”

“What? Ew!” the Stan twins exclaimed.

Grunkle Dipper sighed and, throwing a look that meant impending doom to his cursed great nephew, got up and shook off the hands. The two boys got up as well. “It’s alright kids. Just look away.” He approached the Hand Witch and, as she lowered her hand, took it in his and kissed her on the back of the hand. She retracted her hand and pointed to her face. “A kiss on the _liiiiips!_ ”

“Ugh!” Grunkle Dipper stood up and took a step back. “What? Forget it!”

Stanley piped up, “Yeah, I’m not making Grunkle Dipper kiss any of that mess. That’s messed up!”

Stanford crossed his arms. “You’re just making stuff up, now.”

Grunkle Dipper turned and started to walk off. “Let’s go, kids.”

“NO, WAIT! DON’T GO!” The Hand Witch jumped off her throne and held an arm out toward Grunkle Dipper. He stopped and looked back. She gained a sheepish look of embarrassment, tangling her fingers together. “Ehh–you’re right, you’re right. I-I-I was just making all of that stuff up.” She waved her hands in front of her in a circling motion. “I-I was just trying to get something going, you know? It’s so hard to meet people these days…” She snapped her fingers. The hands retreated, even the ones that kept trying to latch onto Stanford’s fingers.

Stanford huffed, “So this was all just a ploy to get a date? From my _brother?”_

“Not your brother! Wasn’t, uh, meant for him. But, I’m desperate, _okay?_ But every time I bring someone back here _without_ keeping their hands hostage, they just run away.”

Stanley gestured to the cave around them. “Well, _yeah!_ Look at this horror show! It’s creepy. Even for a cave.”

“Uh…” Grunkle Dipper looked around. “You just… need to redecorate! For example…” He picked up a bunch of hands and molded them into a candelabra. “A handelabra!”

The Hand Witch gasped and put her hands to her face. “Ooooh! The Hand Witch likes!”

Grunkle Dipper smiled. “Then watch us work!”

The three immediately went to work with supplies dragged in by hands. From where… they didn’t question. Grunkle Dipper started organizing paintings and shelves. Stanford opened buckets of paint and, with the aid of hundreds of hands, started painting the walls magenta. Stan, a hammer taped to his hand-stump, helped hammer in nails holding drapes and decorations.

Then, the four were standing outside with two hands covering the Hand Witch’s eyes. Four more pulled back the velvety red curtains. One hand held a basket of petals on its back while another started sprinkling them about as the two hands led the group into the cave.

“Okay!” Grunkle Dipper announced, leading the witch inside. “Time to see your brand new cave!”

The hands went away, allowing the Hand Witch to look around. Her eyes grew wide and she gasped. Furniture and expertly placed decorations draped over the walls and covered the floors and painted over everything not covered. A coffee table with a pot of flowers and a book of pick-up lines sat before the couch. “Men will definitely tolerate you now. Also, I left a book of pick-up lines on the table in case you needed them.”

The Hand Witch walked inside, looking around with watery eyes. “Ah! Oh my goodness, I can’t believe this is the same cave! Oh, my goodness! I just can’t find the words…”

Stan, now without gloves or taped on attachments to his arm, piped up, “How about ‘here’s your hands back’?”

“Oh, right!” The Hand Witch turned to him and snapped her fingers. Two smaller hands hopped out of her hair and landed on Stanley. When he held out his arms, the hands popped seamlessly back into place. “My hands! Haha, yeah! You’re all right, sister.” He held out a thumbs up. Hands bristled from all over the cave, giving him the thumbs up as well.

The Hand Witch turned to Grunkle Dipper. “Will you be my boyfriend now?”

“Nope,” Grunkle Dipper stated. “Never. Please don’t ask.”

As they walked away from the cave, Stanley stated, “Well, I learned nothing.”

The Hand Witch waved and sighed as she watched them go. “Back to my crippling loneliness.”

A lost mountain climber clambered up over the edge of the cliff near her cave. He looked down at her and held onto the straps of his backpack. “Hey. I’m lost in these mountains. Can I crash here for the night?”

The Hand Witch’s eyes lit up. “Please, come in.” She picked up the book of pick up lines from inside of her shirt and read aloud, “Girl, are those space pants? Because your butt looks out of this world!”

The man, who’d turned around and set down his backpack, looked back at her. “Wow. Thanks for noticing!”

The Hand Witch hissed and jerked her hand down. “Yes!”

*          *          *          *          *

Stanford rolls his eyes. “That is the worst story you’ve come up with thus far.”

Stanley scoffs, “Is _not!_ I thought that was a pretty cool story. It even had a witch in it!”

Mr. Pines shrugs. “Personally, I liked your monster-water story better.”

“Everyone’s a critic.”

Stanford clears his throat. “Well, I have a half-way decent story.”

“Really?” Stanley smirks.

“Yes, really! It’s called… uh… well, the title doesn’t matter.”

Stanley lowers his voice. “I’ll come up with a title After, bro.”

“Thanks,” Stanford whispers before raising his voice. “Anyway, here goes.”

*          *          *          *          *

Stanford, a notebook in his hand as well as a pen, walked through the gift shop from outside. Dan sat at his station, scrolling through his phone. Stanley, on the other hand, caught Stanford’s attention.

“…and, if I’m being perfectly honest, it would make a great gift for the gal.” Stanley held up a necklace with gold at the very end. It was pretty simple as the loop was probably made with a string-braid they’d sometimes find under a floorboard, bookshelf, or anything else that hadn’t been touched in years. The “gold” woven into it might have just been spray-painted rocks. The price tag taped to it was absurd.

A man just a bit older than Dan took the necklace from him. “Oh! So, you really think she’ll like it?”

“I guarantee she will!” Stanley answered with a sharp nod. “What girl could resist genuine gold and pony hair?”

“Thanks, man!” The man ran off to the cash register, where Dan sat up and started to ring the item. As it didn’t have a barcode, he typed in the number on the tag.

Stanford put away his notebook and stuck his pen behind his ear. “Stanley!”

Stanley, who currently ate a shard of chocolate, turned to him as Stanford approached. “Hey, Ford! What’s up?”

“You know as well as I do that’s not gold,” Stanford pointed out. “Or pony hair. Grunkle Dipper said so and took the first one he found. He was actually really sad about it.”

“Then I’m sure he’ll be happy knowing I found a good home for it.” Stanley shrugged. “Besides, he’s happy.”

“You lied to  _his face._ ”

“Sometimes, you have to lie. For the greater good,” Stanley pointed out. “Like just now.”

Stanford crossed his arms. “Really?”

Fiddleford ran into the gift shop. “Oh, there you are! Hey, Lee.”

Stanley turned to him. The chocolate was behind him, now. “Hey, Fidds!”

 “Have you seen ma chocolate bar?” Fiddleford prompted. “Ah think Ah misplaced it or somethin’. Ah swore Ah put it on the table, though.”

Stanley shook his head. “Uh, nope. I haven’t seen it. Did you ask Grunkle Dipper? Maybe you accidently put it in a wrapper and he thought it was trash or something.”

Fiddleford nodded. “Oh, Ah didn’t even consider that. Thanks, Lee!” With that, he ran off.

Stanley smiled at Stanford. “See? Greater good!”

Stanford scoffed and stalked off.

 

Stanford sat in his bed. Gompers sat next to him. He rubbed Gompers’ head. “You know, Gompers, I never really realized how often Stanley lied until we came here. Grunkle Dipper really hates lying. I’m really surprised Stanley can get away with what he can… ugh. I wish he could go just  _one_ day without lying.”

Gompers bleated.

“Hmm… you know, maybe I  _can_  make that happen.” Stanford took out his scrapbook and flipped through it. A picture of a golden set of teeth on a tree stump stared Up at him. “Ah-ha! Truth Telling Teeth!”

 

After quite a bit of searching, Stanford had found the teeth buried in a box like the author had written. Now, as the teeth were locked in a box under his bed, he pretended to sleep. Then again, it was difficult to  _pretend_  to sleep when a fuzzy baby goat lay next to him. More than once, he found himself starting to doze off.

Stanley bounced on his bed a bit more before passing out.

Stanford quietly slipped out of bed and took out the golden teeth from inside the box. He snuck over to his brother, who yawned. Stanford took this opportunity to put the teeth on him. They fit very snuggly over his original teeth–they even shrunk a bit. Magical items were so weird.

Stanford poked his brother’s shoulder.

“Hmmm?” Stanley looked up at Stanford. “Wha…?”

“What happened to Fiddleford’s chocolate this afternoon?” Stanford prompted.

“I ate it,” Stanley answered. “Mainly because I have little to no concern about other people’s possessions or feelings.” He hesitated as he realized what he’d just said. “Huh. That’s weird. That was strangely candid. Almost as if I am unable to lie. Well, good night.” Stanley lay back down and threw the blanket over himself.

Stanford patted Gompers on the head with a, “Heh, we did it!” before going to his own bed to sleep.

 

The next day, Stanford strolled up to Fiddleford, who sat in the living room table fiddling with a broken phone. “Hey, Fidds!” Fiddleford stayed concentrated on a few of the wires inside of the small machine. “Fidds?” Again, Fiddleford didn’t seem to notice him. Stanford snapped his fingers under Fiddleford’s nose. “Fiddleford?”

“Oh! Hey, Ford.” Fiddleford looked up at him from the phone.

“So,” Stanford sat down next to him. “-have you noticed anything different about Stanley today?”

Fiddleford shook his head. “No. Ah haven’t talked with him this morning. Why? Is he sick?”

Stanford, wearing a grin only a fox in a hen house could pull off, chuckled, “Nope.” He held out the scrapbook to show him a picture of the Truth Telling Teeth. “I thought he’d like to try them on for the day.”

 _“What?_  That’s a terrible idea!” Fiddleford gasped.

“It’s great! Come on, he  _has_  to tell the truth now,” Stanford pointed out.

Fiddleford thought for a moment. Stanley walked through the living room. “Hello, Lee! Ah was wonderin’ something. How did that flashlight ya brought me the other day break? The one you said someone hit with a rock?”

“I hit someone with it.” Stanley shrugged. “I lied about the rock because I knew you’d only lecture me about how it was my fault, which it was. Also, I pretended to be Ford so that they wouldn’t catch me.”

“So that’s why I got egged the other day,” Stanford huffed.

“Well, I’m going to go to the bathroom without washing my hands.” With that, Stanley walked off.

“Ew.” The two Fords recoiled and watched him go.

Fiddleford looked at Stanford. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“He’ll be fine.”

 

Stanford next found Stanley in the gift shop.

“Oh, it’s fake,” Stanley admitted.

“What?” A new person, this time a woman, held a bracelet with “gold” in it.

“I just spray-painted rocks to make them look pretty,” Stanley answered.

Stanford ran to his side. “Stanley! What are you doing?”

Stanley turned to him. “Oh, I was just selling this necklace.”

Stanford sighed. “Grunkle Dipper said you could make your own things, but this is ridiculous.”

The woman scoffed. “And what else here is fake?”

“Ever-” Stanley started.

Stanford cut him off, “I think it’s just that.” He smiled. “Stanley’s just starting out.”

The woman huffed and dropped the necklace all the same.

Stanford sighed and picked up the necklace. “Okay, quit it with the jewelry.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it if they know it’s fake!” Stanley pointed out.

“Gompers is still shy around you. Why don’t you go pet him for a while? I have a few treats by my bed.” Stanford walked off, the necklace in one hand.

 

Stanford paced about the living room. Fiddleford, a pair of headphones now on his head, scrunched up his nose and stared at the lamp he was trying to fix. However, Stanley’s yell still seemed to get through to him. “The bandage on my arm fell off again and I forgot to wash it out, so it looks weird. I just want to be honest with you guys!”

Fiddleford took off his headphones. “Stanford, Ah admire you and Ah like yer brother, but this has  _got_  ta stop.”

“He’ll just be a liar again,” Stanford pointed out.

“Could it possibly be worse than this?”

“Oh, hello, Lee!” Grunkle Dipper greeted. “You know, I think I just overheard someone talking about fake gold in the shop. Do you know anything about that?”

Stanford’s eyes went round. He rushed out of the room, Fiddleford at heel.

“Oh, yes.” Stanley nodded. “I do. I spray-painted a bunch of rocks yellow, glued them to some of those string-braids you have, and sold them like real gold.”

Stanford and Fiddleford stopped at the kitchen doorway. Grunkle Dipper, a cup of juice in one hand, stared at Stanley in incredulity. “You did  _what?_ ”

“I lied about the rocks being gold and I made the necklaces out of that braid string you threw away. Also, I stole a bunch of cookies from the fridge and broke the upstairs window with a golf ball when I was practicing,” Stanley agreed. “I just didn’t tell you earlier because I lie a lot.”

Stanford ran to Stanley’s side. “Stanley! What are you do–I’m really sorry, Grunkle Dipper.”

“Is that true?” Grunkle Dipper prompted, the beginnings of a rare irritated scowl on his features.

Stanford shook his head. “Oh! Uh-uh! No.” Stanford forced himself to keep eye contact with his great uncle. “Look, I am going to have to be really honest with you.” He took a deep breath. “Stanley is… is… Stanley was just reading one of my mystery books!”

“What?” Grunkle Dipper raised an eyebrow at him.

Stanford nodded. “Mhm. He was just talking about one of the characters–a criminal teen who’s pretending to be a kid. H-he’s never committed a crime in his life! Also, uh, did you say you were working on a new routine about the lesser known constellations?”

Grunkle Dipper nodded. “Yes, actually. But I still really like the usual routine I do. It’s a classic.”

“Heh, yeah,” Stanford agreed.

“Well, you two have a good day.” Grunkle Dipper waved and walked off.

Stanford took a deep breath and sighed. “Oh my gosh, he bought that.”

“You’re a terrible liar!” Fiddleford agreed. “I think Mr. Pines was just giving it to you.”

“Probably,” Stanford agreed. “Just as long as Stanley doesn’t–oh No!” Stanley walked after Grunkle Dipper. He opened his mouth to speak when Stanford bowled him over.

“Oof! Ford!” Stanley wriggled out from under him. “What’s wrong with you?”

Stanford held him down. “Fidds!”

Fiddleford put his hands on Stanley’s shoulders. Stanford took the Truth Teeth straight out of Stanley’s mouth. Stanford held up the candid magic item. “We have to find someplace to get rid of these.”

Later, Stanford set the teeth in a purple box and pushed it out into the Bottomless Pit.

*          *          *          *          *

Stanley raised an eyebrow at him. “Didn’t you already tell that story?”

“N… no?”

You prompted Mr. Pines on one of his stories.

“A story from me, huh?” Mr. Pines thinks for a moment. “Well, I do know this one about a spooky Claymation movie we all watched.” The kids groan. “Don’t groan like that, we went on a whole clay adventure! Anyway, I call it: ‘Clay Day’!”

*          *          *          *          *

Stanford, Stanley, and Fiddleford cluttered the floor of the living room while Grunkle Dipper sat in his chair. Only Stanley seemed to be interested in the TV, with Grunkle Dipper half-asleep, Stanford leaning back with his eyes shut and Fiddleford idly playing with his shoe strings.

The brightly colored high school kids, most in basketball uniforms, gathered in the gym with cookies held by one and a ball with another. The main character, probably, tossed the ball to his friend. “Here, have the ball! You deserve it!” The other character who probably had an important role in the movie caught and looked at it in confusion. A random boy cheered.

“But I can’t play basketball.”

“Let me help you!” The main character took his friends hands and guided them. The ball was thrown up and scored. The gathered characters laughed, and the movie faded into one of the cliché songs that had been haphazardly strung within it as credits rolled.

Grunkle Dipper and Fiddleford groaned.

“Everything about this is terrible,” Stanford stated.

Grunkle Dipper sat up. “Well I’m ninety minutes closer to death.” He took out a movie. “It’s time you kids learned to watch classics from _my_ day.”

Stanford brightened and scooted forward to sit next to his brother. “Whoa! Old movies!”

Stanley grinned. “Get ready for references we don’t understand and words we can’t repeat.”

Immediately, the screen turned gold with the words “THE VOYAGES OF LOINCLOTHICLESE” slapped across it. The screen changed to a man with a sword and shield in a leopard skin toga-loincloth. He held up his sword. “You’re no match for Loinclothiclese!” he exclaimed as a clay cyclops with furry pants and broken shackles hobbled up to him. “I’ve come for the golden pants!” The camera turned to the cyclops, who roared.

Stanley groaned and fell back. “Uuuuuuugh. Claymation?”

Fiddleford perked up. “Claymation? Isn’t that a type a’ animation they had b’fore cartoons?”

Grunkle Dipper nodded. “Yep! They were amazing! …too bad it died out.”

Stanford picked up the box and flipped it over. “Hey, this one was filmed in Gravity Falls! Do you think they guy is still alive?”

“He’s probably ancient,” Stanley stated.

Grunkle Dipper said, “Yeah, he’s probably still alive. You want to go see?”

“Beats sitting here watching this movie!” Stanley hopped to his feet and ran off.

 

They now stood in front of a set of large, intricate black iron gates creating a break in the dilapidated stone wall and half-hiding the decrepit house. Spindly, leafless trees grew up around the stone wall and shadowed the rather large house.

“There, yep. That’s his house,” Grunkle Dipper stated. “Huh. No way to call in or knock on the door?”

Fiddleford piped up, “The internet says that special effects genius Harry Claymore is a recluse.”

“Oh, well, he wants his privacy. I can respect that.” Grunkle Dipper shrugged. “Oh, well. Let’s go back home.”

Stanley watched him leave. “What? I thought we were gunna meet the guy! And maybe look at his little clay statues and smuggle one home or somethin’, I dunno.”

“We’re not robbing the guy, Stanley,” Grunkle Dipper scolded. “If he doesn’t want visitors, that’s fine. We should respect his decisions and oh my gosh. Stanley!”

Stanley, who was on top of the fence having thrown a rope-and-hook over it, looked down. “Uh, what? I can’t hear you. I’m too busy knocking on this guy’s door.” He hopped the fence and sped-walked toward the door.

Grunkle Dipper shook his head and soon all four of them were in the yard.

“You see,” Grunkle Dipper started. “Claymation is when someone takes a clay model and moves it one frame at a time by an anti-social shut-in.”

Fiddleford piped up, “Those people are called animators.”

Stanley knocked on the door of the house, causing it to creak open and show the dusty, dark, ruffled interior of the… studio? Was this place still occupied or abandoned?

Stanford called as they walked in, “Hello? Mr. Claymore?”

Stan piped up, “We wanna get a look at your figurines!”

“We’re not paparazzi!” Fiddleford reassured him.

Stanford looked down and gasped, “Ah-ha!” He plucked a broken gorilla figurine off the ground. “See? Pretty real looking figurine with joints that allow it to move.”

“Mhm.” Grunkle Dipper stopped and turned to them. “Now, if only we could find Mr. Claymore. Then…” He stopped. All four spun around as a rather large shadow spread over them. The giant clay cyclops stood behind them, glaring down with one giant eye. It roared.

The four screamed and backed off as the cyclops swiped at them. Stanley exclaimed, “It’s slowly–” They ducked. “-swiping at us!” They ducked again.

The monster snarled and grabbed Grunkle Dipper, who was too slow to evade it like the kids. “Aaah!”

“Oh no!” Fiddleford yelped as, when he tried to run, he tripped and fell back. He was plucked off the ground as well. “Ahh! Help!”

Stanford backed up and looked around. Formerly inanimate globs of clay took shape as armed skeletons burst out of them. He tripped over Stanley and threw both of them to the ground. A skeleton crawled out of a pile of clay behind Stanley and grabbed his head. The boy screamed and darted up the stairs, easily escaping the skeleton as it turned its sights on Stanford, who struggled to keep from getting his head cut off.

Grunkle Dipper, Fiddleford, and Stanford were stuck in giant globs of clay on the ground. Though they struggled, they couldn’t seem to get out of it. Grunkle Dipper looked around at their clay captors. “How is this happening? What do they want?”

A voice, tired and old, sounded before them. “I’m afraid they want you.” Standing in front of them was a squat old man tied up in rope and held by one of the many sword-and-shield skeletons that surrounded them.

Stanford gasped. “Harry Claymore! Master of special effects! Circa-1970-something.”

Harry Claymore dipped his head in a nod and waddled forward, still bound. “Alas, my effects are more special than you know.”

Grunkle Dipper huffed, “What? But how are these things real? What about stop motion?”

“What?” Harry Claymore recoiled. “You really believe someone moves these figures one frame at a time?” He rolled his eyes. “I’m not a masochist! I use black magic to make them animate themselves.” He sighed, and his gaze turned forlorn. “It was great at first, but one day…”

_Years ago, the cyclops stood in the yard of the old house, clutching a newspaper in his grasp. “COMPUTER ANIMATION INVENTED” “STOP MOTION DECLARED DEAD” read the article. A picture of a 3-D model eating a cookie on a tile frame flanked the article. “So real looking!” was the caption._

_The cyclops growled and roared, “Nooo! Where’s the_ art?! _”_

“Now that they were out of work, they went mad and enslaved me!” Harry Claymore exclaimed, his eyes wide. “And now they will turn you into unholy beasts of clay to join in their mischief!”

Stanford huffed, “Well this is certainly ironic. You get to work with your favorite director, but by work I mean suffocate inside a giant chunk of clay.” More clay was added to the piles they were cocooned within.

Stanley stood up in the cat walk, staring down at the scene with wide eyes as his family called for help. He sat back. “Oh, what do I do?!” He groaned, smacking his forehead. “How can I defeat these monsters? Think, Stanley, think!” He picked up a wad of clay, accidentally indenting it with his thumbs. Curious, he drew a curved line in the bottom like a smiley face. “Huh… I think I have an idea.”

He ran down the stairs, hopping the railing as he did so to keep from running into it. “Hey, One-Eyeclops!” he yelled, immediately gaining the negative attention of the cyclops. “Yeah, I’m talkin’ to you, dumb-dumb! Fight me!” He yelled and charged the beast with his hands clapped in front of himself. The beast roared and charged him. Before it could grab Stanley, the boy jumped into its stomach, crawled up through its chest, and burst out of its shoulder. “Ha-ha! Wipe that face off your face, ugly!” He grabbed its forehead and tore down, completely tearing through its face. “Oh, I’ve got big plans for you, big-guy.”

Later, Stanley stood on the creature’s head. “Hey, skeleton dorks! It’s CLAYBACK TIME!” He screamed, throwing his hands up. The clay creature he stood on–a giant ogre–roared and smashed the first skeleton to bits with a giant club. Stanley hopped off his creation and rushed to the aid of his family.

“Oh thank God!” Fiddleford gasped, stumbling out of the pile and putting a hand to his chest. “Thank ya, Stanley!”

Grunkle Dipper squirmed out of his own pile. “Ugh! I’m sorry I doubted you, Lee. Stop-motion is pure evil.”

Harry Claymore joined them as they watched the fight. Stanford piped up, “And probably really expensive.”

Harry Claymore sighed. “Incredibly expensive.”

Stanley smirked. “This is an impressive fight, though. I’m glad we get to watch it.” A giant scorpion with Medusa’s head attacked the ogre. The two fought until they melted together into a giant wad of clay. A few unicorns rained from the ceiling, joining the mess and ending the reign of black-magic-clay-monsters. The gathered people clapped at their defeat.

“That was the best part!” exclaimed Harry Claymore.

*          *          *          *          *

Stanley scoffs, “Yeah, right. _I_ totally beat some clay skeleton butt!”

Stanford states, “If I recall correctly, you got a clay ogre to do it for you.”

“You’re a wimp who got caught!” Stanley cuts himself off with a yawn.

Mr. Pines stands up. “Alright, that’s enough! You two should be going off to bed, now. It’s _way_ past your bed time.”

“But it’s summer!” Stanley groans, leaving his chair nonetheless.

“And it’s almost midnight!” Mr. Pines agrees. “Now go to bed or I’m waking the both of you up early tomorrow!”

The boys no longer hesitate to evacuate the kitchen.

Mr. Pines turns back to you. “Now, I have a spare bedroom if you’d like to take it.” He jabs his thumb to the end of the hall. “The key’s hanging on the Door.”

Thunder booms outside and the window hisses and shutters as wind-thrown rain lashes it.

You nod and go to the place specified. Just the night. Then you could leave.

 

The next morning, you seem to be awake before the children. Although you start to decline Mr. Pines’ offer of a breakfast, your empty stomach disagrees with you. This time, as the boys come downstairs, the now infamous pet goat is revealed as he trails behind… Stanford. Yes, that twin’s name was Stanford. The one-horned goat gives you a passing glance, but instead of interacting, he sticks closer to Stanford’s leg. After breakfast, Mr. Pines shoos the twins off to work.

Curious, you go to the gift shop in which they stay. It’s a quaint place, cluttered but cozy. Hues of blue and some purples accented silver create the color scheme of the shop. From keychains to shirts, all types of space-themed equipment line the walls and shelves. A round, short Latino lady passes through the door not too soon after the boys are set to work. She looks at you and greets you in Spanish, either completely unsurprised by newcomers or already expecting you. Later on, a tall, squared man–teenager?–enters the shop. After some walking around and a passing, curious greeting to you, he sits behind the counter. A few minutes after that, tourists start to trickle in.

“Hey!” Mr. Pines walks into the shop. “My best friend, Soos, and their friend Fiddleford said they’d help fix up your car.”

You prompt him on the reasoning.

“Why? Well, they love helping people? Soos is retired, and Fiddleford jumps at the chance to help anyone–especially when it comes to fixing things. Trust me, they’re better than any body shop around here.” Mr. Pines smiles. “You can stay here until they’re done or go out to town. I’d recommend keeping your phone on, though. I honestly don’t know how long it will take with those two.”

You nod and decide to go on one of Mr. Pines’ earlier tours about constellations.

 

Later on, you stand in the corner of the gift shop. Although you try and occupy yourself by looking over the cheesy alien and ghost merchandise and the space-themed garb and decorations, it does not work. Your eyes fall to the nearest boy. He was one of the twins. Stan-something. Stanley wears red and white striped shirts while Stanford wears that aviator’s jacket. This boy wears the jacket with the plain white shirt underneath.

Still, the boy doesn’t notice you. He is concentrated on a paper in his hands. You hesitate as something seems off about the boy’s hands. You mentally count his fingers. One, two, three, four, five, six…? Odd. You recount to make sure. Yep, the boy has six fingers. Anyway, Stanford flips the paper over to look on the back and then flips it over again to reread it. He takes the pencil out from behind his ear. The sharpened tip hovers over the paper. After a few very long moments, he puts the pencil back and folds the paper. “Tomorrow. I’ll give this to him tomorrow.”

Then, the boy tenses and looks up. His wide eyes meet yours. They narrow. “What the heck, man? Are you watching me or something?”

You shake your head and look back into the shop. With a dark grumble, Stanford stalks past him. The boy mutters a “You’re lucky I wasn’t Stanley” before disappearing.

The front door opens. Mr. Pines strides inside. “Hey! Soos and Fiddleford are out front. Your car’s fixed.” He laughs. “Lucky I caught them so quickly. Fiddleford said something about wanting to put nitrous boosters in your _car_ and Soos actually agreed to it!”

You ask him about the legality of nitrous boosters as you leave with him.

Mr. Pines scoffs. “Yeah, we all know it’s illegal, which is why I stopped them. What should be illegal is that boy’s unnerving love of fire.”

When you get outside, you find your car sits in the driveway. A very old gopher-like man stands next to the car. By his hip is a very excited dirty-blonde boy, just about as old as the Stan twins. Both of them wear blue worker jumpsuits. When you greet them, their attention turns to you.

“Hey, dood.” The gopher-like man tips his hat. “Soos. We fixed up your car!”

The blonde boy grins. “Ah’m Fiddleford McGucket! Yer car’s good to go. Also, one a’ the cylinders in your car wasn’t firin’ right, so we fixed that, too.”

Surprised, you ask about his age. This kid was allowed around tools?

“Ah’m thirteen!” Fiddleford puffs out his chest. “Learned everythin’ Ah know from my grandma.”

Mr. Pines assures you, “He looks young, but he’s better than any paid mechanic. You have a good day, now.”

You say your goodbyes and get back in your car. It was much quieter than before it broke down and indeed it was smoother as you pulled out of the driveway and went down the road.

 

OITK ZIK? RO, WNLA…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very few things in life compare to story-time! I know that even if they were friendly, I’d have probably stayed in the car. Guess that’s just me being paranoid. ’Nyway, thinking up short stories was surprisingly difficult! Eh, at least they sorta fit. Right? Eh-heh, yeah, and there’s totally nothing going on with Stanford and that suspicious note.
> 
>  
> 
> 4: _Ztnq Yenosy Udz Nbw Senuueq d Ahvqn, bhw Uevwoee Khs Sryd._


	6. Society of the Blind Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now more than ever, the kids need each other. It would be a sha **m** e if they found one’s loyalties to be divided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find the Title Card on dA:

The town’s lamp lights flickered as night fell over the valley. Some fizzled out. Within Greasy’s Diner, the last worker there swept the last of the kitchen. “Ta dum, locking up,” she hummed as she worked. She turned to see two opossums on the dishes in the sink. She poked them with the end of her broom. “Shoo, opossums, shoo!” Once they scrambled off the counter, she walked over to one of the tables and slapped her broom in it. “Git, Chiu, git!” “Old Woman” Chiu scrambled out from under the table and fled. The woman put away her broom and, humming, locked the diner door behind her. “Good night, diner,” she said as she walked. “Good night, trees. Good night, tiny men stealing my pie.” She gasped and turned around. Her eyes grew round as she looked upon the scene before her. Four gnomes stacked on top of each other wobbled near the window. The top most one grabbed at the pie with his tiny hands. “Wait, _WHAT?”_

On the cool cement almost a foot away from the window, Jeff stood below the other gnomes. “Lift with your knees. No, your _knees._ If I go one more hour without eating, I’m gunna resort to cannibalism.” He looked back, as if just now noticing the worker. He tipped his hat. “Ma’am.”

Now the woman screamed and walked backwards. “Little magic men! What does it mean? What do I do?!” She stumbled into a payphone. Immediately she spun around and took off the phone. With shaky fingers, she typed in “911”. “Yes, hi. I’d like to report something. I’m at Greasy’s Diner. You won’t believe what I’ve witnessed.” As she talked, two figures in maroon cloaked slipped out of the trees. Like ghosts, their shadowed feet didn’t make a noise against the ground and the hem of their cloaks hardly disturbed the ground they walked on. A symbol of a red eye crossed out stood out in blazing red on their hoods. The woman, too terrified to notice the figures behind her, stammered, “It’s unbelievable! It’s indescribable! It’s– _AH!_ ” She dropped the phone and screamed as the figure on the right dropped a bag over her head. The figures dragged her back into the woods.

Into the trees, the cloaked figures disappeared. They passed up a third hooded figure bearing the same plain robes as the first two. Once they passed, he held out a shadowed hand. “It is unseen,” he announced, his voice quiet but firm. He followed the screaming woman and her two abductors. The same symbol that was on their hoods was spray painted onto the brick wall the third figure had been standing before.

Gnomes, now holding the pie, witnessed the scene with blank expressions. Jeff shrugged. “Well! Back to pie!” They scampered off in the opposite direction of the cloaked figures. A slice of pie fell out of the tin. “I was _this_ close to eating you, Steve.”

 

Hot as it was the next day, Stanford stayed in their cooler room. Stanford tacked an image of a person’s silhouette with a question mark on the face onto a board. “WHO IS THE AUTHOR?” was painted on carboard nailed to the top of the board. Newspaper clippings, pictures, and random notes with the letter “C” highlighted decorated most of the board. Blue strings tied around the tacks, connecting many pieces of evidence they’d collected over the summer.

Then, Stanford stood Back to look over his board. He gnawed on a red ink pen as he did so. “Hmmm… who is the author? These pieces–they don’t make any sense. Who are you…? Agk! Pah!” Stanford spat as the ink pen broke in his teeth and sent ink spilling into his mouth and down his chin. He wiped off his face and chucked the pen into a box of broken pens labeled “THINKING PENS”.

The younger Stan twin yelled as he ran into the room, “HEY!” A green bottle with a cork in it was clutched in his hands. “Guess what! Guess what!”

His brother looked back at him. “What?”

Excited, Stanley launched himself onto Stanford’s bed and scrambled to sit up. “Look! Look!” He held out the bottle. “I found this really neat corked bottle under one of the floorboards.”

“Yeah, uh, Stanley? There’s nothing in that,” Stanford pointed out.

“What? Psssh. No, look. There is.” Stanley took the cork out of the green bottle and then pulled out a paper so old and faded, the word inscribed on the back couldn’t be discerned. “Okay, okay. Now. ‘Dear M… seven-somethin’ hearts… more… way…’?”

Immediately, Stanford held out a hand. Stanley gave it to him. Stanford carefully looked over the timeworn piece. It was blotched by water and ruined by time so most of it couldn’t be deciphered. “Hmm. Well, it’s a neat message. You keep it.”

Lowly, Stanley took the message again. “Ugh. I find something cool and of course I can’t read it.” He stuck out his tongue, set the paper on the dresser, and looked over the bottle.

“Look, if it’s any consolation, my summer mission isn’t going that well.” Stanford picked up the scrapbook and paced back and forth. “I’m still trying to find the author of this journal, but with this laptop smashed, I’ve lost any lead in finding him.” Stanford gestured to the smashed laptop by their bedside desk.

“Ford…” Stanley looked at the laptop and then his bottle. “Hey, wait a minute! Ford! Look!” He held out the bottle for Stanford to take.

“Okay?” Stanford took the bottle and looked through it. The glass distorted the world he saw and magnified the area directly in front of it. In the smashed wreckage that was the laptop, a little gold plate was screwed into it. “CHIU LABS” was engraved in the plate. Stanford lowered the bottle. “‘CHIU LABS’? As in ‘Old Woman’ Chiu?!”

Round went Stanley’s eyes. “Ford! You don’t think–?”

“Gah! It doesn’t make any sense!” Stanford exclaimed and ran to the board. He took Candy Chiu’s picture out from the “SUSPICIOUS TOWNSFOLK” area. “UNLIKELY” was written in marker on the picture. “Unless…” He tacked it onto the silhouette. Then, he went to work. Muttering under his breath, Stanford buzzed about the pictures, newspaper clippings, and everything else on the board. He untied and retied the blue strings until it made a made a spider web of blue with the focal point being “Old Woman” Chiu. Stanford took a step back. “Does that mean that… _Chiu wrote the scrapbooks!?_ ”

 

Eventually, downstairs, Fiddleford fixed a fallen card pole in the gift shop. Dan refolded clothes that customers had taken but didn’t put back neatly. Dan looked down at Fiddleford. “So, I’ve been meaning to ask you: do you always keep papers lying around?”

“Th–Huh?” Fiddleford looked back at him. For the slightest moment, panic flitted through his bright blue eyes before he forced himself to relax.

“I didn’t look through it, but you left your notebook or whatever on the counter.” Dan took the notebook from beside the clothes and held it out.

“Thanks!” Fiddleford took it. “Ah’m sorry, Ah guess Ah just forgot Ah left it there.” He put the small notebook with a horse on its cover in his pocket. It didn’t fit all the way.

As if summoned, Stanford and Stanley ran into the gift shop with the expressions of two people being chased by a tiger. “WE HAVE TO MOVE!” Stanford cried and grabbed Fiddleford by the wrist. Stanley took Dan and the two ran outside.

“Loo–What the-?!” Dan gasped.

Looking back, Stanley answered, “No time to explain! We need to go to the dump!”

Grunkle Dipper turned around and raised his hand. “Hey! What about work? You’re supposed to be–and they’re gone.” Grunkle Dipper lowered his hand. “Those kids.”

 

They were at the dump. “Okay, so be gentle,” Stanford stated. “We don’t want to make _any_ wrong moves.”

“She’s a real intelligent lady,” Fiddleford agreed. “And nice. Ah don’t see why you’d be afraid of her.”

Stanley scoffed, “She acts like a kook and no one knows what she even is.”

“She’s a human bein’, Stanley,” Fiddleford cut in dryly.

“Why? Do you know her?”

“Yes, actually, Ah do. She’s my grandmother, remember?”

Stanford nodded. “That’s half the reason we’re here. Fiddleford’s related to her!”

“Yeah, if you’re related to her, why don’t you know anythin’ about this author mess?” Stanley prompted.

Fiddleford shook his head. “She never told me anythin’ about making any type a’ scrapbook.”

“Mrs. Chiu!” Stanford called. “We need to talk to you!”

Daryl and Ed cackled as they spray-painted the side of a makeshift… _house_. Was that rusty pile of metal sheets a house? The high-fived each other once they’d finished writing “OLD WOMAN CHEW” on it.

Daryl took a step back to admire their work. “That’s good.”

Ed snickered, “It took us an hour to think of it, but it was worth it!”

“Old Woman” Chiu hobbled out of a blanket that stood in for a door. “Hey! HEY! Go!” The two teens ran away, laughing, and dropped their spray-paint cans. “Get out of here you… you… oh, they got me.” She shook her head and, once she noticed the kids, brightened immensely. “Visitors! Come, come!” She hobbled back into her home. They followed her inside. “Pull up some rusty metal! Candy has not made anything, but I am here.”

Stanford stopped in the middle of the room. “You can drop the act, Chiu. I know you’re the author. You studied the mysteries of this town and made this scrapbook.” He pulled out the scrapbook.

Dan went on, “You’re the genius Ford’s been looking for all summer.” The broken laptop was now in his hands.

“Uh, genius?” Mrs. Chiu stared at them and then shook her head and turned around. “I’m no genius. Candy does nothing worthwhile in her life.” She Looked a framed newspaper article on the wall. “LOCAL KOOK CONTINUES DOWNWARD SLIDE” was the article’s name. Underneath of a picture of “Old Woman” Chiu with a whole racoon in her mouth and holding a knife and fork was the caption “SEEN EATING RACOON”. Tate held out a hand at the camera as if to turn it off. “SON OFFERS NO COMMENT”. “Everyone knows Candy is crazy and no good. I can’t remember what I used to be, but I must be failure to end up like this.” She sighed and turned back to the group of kids.

Stanley shook his head. “But you have to be! The laptop has your name on it!”

Fiddleford walked over to her and took her arm. “C’mon, ya taught me everythin’ Ah know, that’s worthwhile.”

“What about this book? Are you sure you didn’t write it?” Stanford offered and opened the box for “Old Woman” Chiu to see. He gently flipped through the scrapbook, letting each picture have its turn in the light. “Here, look closely.”

“Old Woman” Chiu shook her head. “I told you, I don’t remember. Everything before 1982 was just a blur. Just a hazy…” Her eyes fell on a symbol of a large eye crossed out in red. “SOCIETY OF THE BLIND EYE” read above the eye. “Old Woman” Chiu’s eyes went wide. She shrieked and scrambled back so quickly that she fell onto her back. Even then she scrambled to get away as if the scrapbook had turned into a monster ready to eat her. “THE BLIND EYE! Robes, the men, my mind! They did something!” Fiddleford put a hand to his mouth and took a step back.

Stanford shut the journal. “Who did?”

“I…” “Old Woman” Chiu put her hands to her head and rubbed her temples. “Oh, I… I don’t recall.”

Stanley frowned. “Ah, man. No wonder your mind’s all messed up. You’ve been through somethin’ intense.”

Stanford looked at Stanley and their friends. “What if Chiu learned something she wasn’t supposed to know, and someone, or something, messed with her mind? We’ve got to get to the bottom of this.”

Dan held his hands in front of him. “Think: what is the earliest thing you can remember?”

“Uh…” “Old Woman” Chiu put a hand to her head and glanced at another newspaper beside the framed one. “This, I think.” She took the newspaper off the wall and held it out. “DISORIENTED WOMAN FOUND AT MUSEUM”. “Old Woman” Chiu sat in front of the museum, a hand to her head and a hazy look on her face.

“The history museum!” Dan exclaimed.

Stanford gave them a firm nod. “That’s where we’re going.”

Fiddleford looked at the picture and piped up, “Look, whatever messed with her must have been somethin’ fierce. Maybe we should make a plan or somethin’.”

“We’ll plan on the way,” Stanford denied. “This is too important to wait.”

 

Everyone piled into Dan’s truck. “Old Woman” Chiu sat in the passenger seat. She looked out the window, completely silent. Stanford sat in the middle of the backseat and studied the “Society of the Blind Eye” page.

“It’s in code,” Stanley pointed out.

“What if it’s a warnin’?” Fiddleford prompted. “It’s in code because the auth–it was too terrible for her to look at every day.”

Stanford didn’t look at him. “I know you’re trying to be cautious, Fidds, but this is too important.”

 

They walked into the museum on light feet. Stanford looked about. “Keep your eye out for _anything_ suspicious.” Stanford stood by “Old Woman” Chiu. “So, your last memory was here. Is anything coming back? Anything at all?” She shook her head.

Dan gasped and pointed down another hall. “Look!” A hooded figure paused at the end of the hall before vanishing from sight.

“Hey, who’s there?” Stanford called after him. The chase began. Yet, almost as quickly as it came, it went. The group stopped in a room wall-to-wall covered in eyes. Eyes in jars, pictures of eyes, eye replicas, eye-shaped figurines–everything. They looked about the creepy place. There was no hooded figure.

“He’s vanished!” “Old Woman” Chiu exclaimed.

“It doesn’t make sense. Where did he go?” Stanford huffed and looked about.

Fiddleford pointed down the opposite hall, as there had been a fork in the hallway. “Maybe he went in the other direction? There’s plenty of places to go that way.”

Stanford looked at him. “I could have sworn he went this way but… there isn’t anything here. Look at all these eyes, though! We must be close, at the very least.”

Stanley walked to Fiddleford’s side. “Yeah! Maybe if we split up we can find him!”

Stanford countered In an instant, “We’re not splitting up!”

“If we do that,” Fiddleford suggested, “We’ll find them faster! It was only one guy. We aren’t doin’ anythin’ standin’ in this small room.”

“Fidds?” Stanford turned so that he faced his friend completely. “You’re acting strange. Not in the usual way.”

“This monster or these people–they don’t sound good,” Fiddleford explained. “What if we find them and they mess us up or somethin’? Then we’d never even think to find the auth–what happened with grandma.”

“We’ll have to risk it,” Stanford stated. “Besides, this is your grandmother we’re talking about. What if we can help her regain her sanity?” Fiddleford looked away, but did not speak further.

“Old Woman” Chiu stopped and looked around. She gained a Nervous look about her. “I feel like all these eyeballs are watching me…”

Stanford snapped his attention to her. “Wait…” He looked about them. Indeed, all of the eyes were turned so that they pointed to the place “Old Woman” Chiu currently stood. “They are! Move aside!” The old woman stepped aside to allow Stanford to take her place. On the wall in the center of the eyes was a jagged stone piece that looked like a pressure plate. The Society of the Blind Eye’s symbol was engraved on it. Stanford pressed down on it. The wall to their left shuttered. A section of wall slid to the side to reveal a staircase. “A secret passageway.”

“We have to be stealthy,” “Old Woman” Chiu stated.

Stanford nodded and led the way downstairs.

Chanting echoed down the hall.

The group stopped and peeled back red curtains just a hair. They had to cluster together to really see into the vast room. Six people in cloaks with the Blind Eye symbols on the hoods stood around a treasure chest on a pedestal. A chair with metal cuffs on it was a few feet away. “ _Novus ordo seclorum,_ ” they chanted. They touched the treasure chest with one hand each and then backed off.

Once their voices died, a seventh person arrived. He ghosted to the treasure chest. “Who is the subject of our meeting?”

Two robed cultists led the diner worker inside. She still had the bag over her head and both arms were firmly in their grasp. The cultists announced, “This woman!” The left cultist took off the bag on her head.

The kids gasped. Stanley whispered, “That lady who works with ‘Growling’ Grenda?”

The cultists set her in the chair and tied her hands on the arms of the chair. The lead cultist stated, “What have you seen?”

“Speak!” the eight other cultists demanded.

The woman looked about the room. “Uh-uh! Well, uh, I was leaving the diner, and I saw these little bearded doodads, and I was, like, ‘Bwaaa?’”

The leader turned to the chest and opened it. “There, there.” He pulled out what looked like a gun with a lightbulb for a barrel, a circle device on one side with a long tube-holding device on another, a red glass blast shield, and a small panel on the end. “You won’t be like ‘Bwaaah?’ for much longer.”

The other members kept their heads low and pulled their hoods tighter over themselves.

The woman eyed the contraption. “What is that gizmo? It looks like a hair dryer.” As she spoke, the man with the gun moved the circle switch multiple times. The words “LITTLE MEN” spelled out in bright green letters. “Are you guys barbers?” He pointed the gun at her. The lightbulb glowed and sparkled in brilliant blue light. The woman screamed as a ray of blue light flashed and blasted her in the face. Once the light died, it revealed her eyes wide open and pupils dilated. Then, her pupils returned to their original size, and she relaxed.

The cult leader turned around and looked at the gun. “What do you know of little bearded men?”

The woman stated, “My mind is cleared, thanks to the Society of the Blind Eye.”

The cultists raised their arms. “It is unseen!”

Stanford’s eyes went wide. “They just wiped her memory.”

“Old Woman” Chiu pulled back the curtain a bit more to see what was going on in more clarity.

Stanford shook his head, still in Disbelief. “Are you seeing this? They just wiped her memory!”

The cultists untied her. The lead cultist turned to her. “How do you feel?”

The woman was helped down and lead away. “I feel great! I can’t even remember what was wrong or what I’m doing here, or if I’m a man or a woman!”

“Your memories will be safe with us, buried in the Hall of the Forgotten.” He opened the tube holder on the side of the memory gun and removed a little tube with a roll of what looked like paper on the side. He took out a marker and wrote her name on the paper in red.

“Into the Hall of the Forgotten! Into the Hall of the Forgotten!” The rest of the cultists chanted.

The leader put the tube inside of a chute, like the ones in banks, and shut the lid. The memory was vacuumed out. “Good chanting, boys. Have you been practicing?” the cult leader prompted as they continued to chant.

The kids gasped as the tunnel with the memory tube ran right over them. They shut the curtain in an instant.

The leader announced, “Meeting adjourned!”

The cultists relaxed and dispersed. “Unsee you later!” “Unsee you later!” “Unsee you later!” the greeted as they walked past each other.

Once the area was clear, the group walked out into the open. “A secret society of evil mind erasers.” Stanford picked up the gun, inspected it, and put it back in its holder. “I’ll bet they erased your mind a long time ago. If we can find where your memories have been hidden, it could be the key to unlocking all the mysteries of Gravity Falls!” He turned to Stanley and Dan. “Stanley! Dan! Stay here and make sure those cultists don’t come back.” He turned to “Old Woman” Chiu and Fiddleford. “Mrs. Chiu, Fiddleford: you two and I are going to find the Hall of the Forgotten.” He looked at a tube nearby. Stanford took out a cloth and shoved it into the pipe. It was vacuumed up the pipe. “Follow that cloth!”

“Old Woman” Chiu raced down the corridor with Stanford and Fiddleford close behind. Tubes ran through the ceiling above them. A few more appeared and some crossed. They stayed following the one with the cloth.

“Halt! Is someone there?” the voice of one of the cultists barked out from the hallway.

“Old Woman” Chiu gasped. “Oh! Oh no! What do we do?”

“Over here!” Stanford hissed and ducked under a wagon in the Settler section. “Old Woman” Chiu posed as a settler woman. Fiddleford hid in the wagon.

Two robed figures ran down the hall. They paused by the settler exhibit. The first one huffed, “Man, these are really poorly made.” He tried to “fix” “Old Woman” Chiu’s eyes, as they had drifted apart, but failed twice. “I could’ve sworn I heard someone.”

“Probably just that janitor kissing that wax settler woman again,” the second commented.

The two left. “Whoof! Remind me to erase _that_ from my memory!”

The cloth zipped past them in the tube on the ceiling. Stanford crawled out from under the wagon. “Whew.” The cloth flashed by them in the tubes. “There!” They began their chase again. Eventually, the tube led through a large pair of doors. When they opened it, they watched the cloth fall onto the head of a large statue. The robed man’s arms were spread wide and his head was down. The ceiling above was riddled by the ends of tubes, all facing down. The most impressive of all was the sheer number of memory-tubes scattered over the floor, in monstrous piles, and on any type of raised surface like a table or a desk. Pillars rose up around the room. At the very end, behind the statue flanked by burning sconces and on the stone around it, were a few rows of neatly placed memory tubes.

“Old Woman” Chiu stuttered a few swears in her native language.

 

In the main chamber, Stanley and Dan sat on the steps next to Each other. Stanley lay down and looked up at the ceiling. “Uuuugh this is gunna take a while.” He looked up at Dan. “So, Dan, what do you think they’ll find?”

“Probably some freaky cult library,” Dan replied. “I mean, I’d have loved to join them, but they’re better with libraries and stuff, anyway.”

“Yeah.” Stanley frowned and then sighed. “I’m bored. Hey, you wanna see if that treasure chest has real gold on it?”

Dan shook his head. “Nah. Even if it did, we aren’t taking it.”

Stanley stuck out his tongue. “What about that memory gun thing? Can we take _that?”_

“Now why the heck would you want that?”

“I just wanna see it.” Stanley rolled his eyes. “Don’t get all defensive.” He hopped up and strolled over to the chest with the memory gun in it.

Dan jumped to his feet. “Whoa! You don’t know how to work that thing! What if you accidentally activate it and we forget how to read or breathe or something?”

Stanley huffed, “Nah, man. You’d have to pull the trigger to make it work.”

“Eh, I dunno.” Dan looked it over.

“C’mon, man. I just wanna see what it’s made of!”

 

“Whoa,” Stanford breathed as he and “Old Woman” Chiu walked further into the room. “Look at all of these tubes… people must have been getting their memories erased all over the place.” He looked down and plucked a tube off a desk. “‘Janice’? Look at this!”

They found what looked like a computer with something to hold a tube in rather than a keyboard near one end of the room. He set the tube inside and pressed a button. The machine hissed as it clamped down on the memory tube.

 _“Tell us, Janice, what you have seen,”_ the cultist leader demanded.

Janice, strapped down to the chair with ropes around her chest and arms, looked up at him. _“So, I was attacked by this magic Kung Fu girl that was, like, throwing bolts of lightning at me. I kicked her butt, though.”_ She ended her explanation with a smug smirk.

_“Janice, speak honestly.”_

_“I was saved by a thirteen-year-old,”_ Janice grumbled.

The tape stopped. Stanford shook his head. “I still don’t get it. Why are they erasing peoples’ memories?”

Fiddleford looked over the tube. “Well, didn’t Janice almost die by her? What if they’re takin’ away _bad_ memories an’ such?”

“Look!” “Old Woman” Chiu stood next to the statue. She pointed at a tube on the end of the top shelf labeled “CHIU MEMORIES”. “It’s my name!”

“You’re memories!” Stanford gasped. “We did it!”

“Hehe! Grabby, grabby!” “Old Woman” Chiu climbed onto the statue, grabbed the tube, and pulled it off. The oval above the statue peeled back to reveal an eye that had been scratched out. It blazed in red light. The room flashed red as an alarm blared.

 

In the main room, Dan looked over the gun. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“All of my ideas are good ideas!” Stanley grabbed the gun and held it up. “See? Nothin’.”

Alarms made a high-pitched screech through the room they were in. Red lights blazed through the room. They looked about. “Oh no!” Dan hissed.

 

“Ah!” “Old Woman” Chiu dropped the memory tube. “Those alarms in my head are goin’ off again!” Stanford caught it.

“Halt! Who’s there?” a society member cried from outside the door.

“Oh no!” Stanford gasped and ran off. “Old Woman” Chiu hid behind the statue.

“Get back here!” The society member yelled as he and a few others chased the boys.

“Old Woman” Chiu peeked her head out as soon as the coast was clear. “Oh, you’ve really mucked it up, now, Candy. This is all your fault.”

 

Stanford, clutching the memory tube, hid while Fiddleford ducked down somewhere else. The society members raced past. He took a few deep breaths. “They’re gone.” No sooner had he said that then a pair of hands move out of the dark and clamped over his eyes. Stanford screamed as he was torn back and swept off his feet.

 

Stanford, Stanley, and Dan were tied a pillar low to the ground, so they were forced to sit. Dan had to be tied down with multiple ropes lest he break through the weaker ones Stanford and Stanley couldn’t. Crates of memory tubes were pushed up against the sides and corners of the room. The struggling kids were surrounded by robed cultists.

The lead cultist took the memory tube Stanford had been holding and took a few steps back. This one was not the one they’d seen when they wiped the woman’s memories. This one was larger and bulkier and had a croaking, heavy voice. “You shouldn’t have come here,” the lead cultist stated. “We do not give up our secrets lightly.”

Dan burst out, “Who are you freaks?”

Stanford glared at them. “Why are you doing this?”

“What’s with the whole kidnapping thing?” Stanley demanded.

“Well, I suppose we are going to erase your minds anyway.” The cultist leader nodded to the people around him. One by one, cultists took off their hoods.

Stanley gasped, “Thompson Determined?”

“That farmer guy?” Dan guessed.

The cultist leader, so far the only one not wearing their hood, announced, “And then… there’s me.” The woman pulled down her hood.

“G… ‘Growling’ Grenda?” Stanford whispered.

Stanley glared at her. “That’s why you don’t like Grunkle Dipper!”

“Growling” Grenda narrowed her eye. “Your great uncle and I don’t like each other, but he’s as oblivious to us as everyone else is. We are the Society of the Blind Eye.” She raised her hands. The cultists raised one hand and swept it back before letting them fall at their sides. “Growling” Grenda raised one finger. “Formed many years ago by our founder… it doesn’t matter. What matters is that we’re here now.”

“But why would you do all this?” Stanford demanded. “What do you have to gain?”

“Growling” Grenda put her fingers together. “As you have discovered, Gravity Falls is a town filled with weirdness. No one knew how to stop the things that went bump in the night, so out founder invented the next best thing: a way for us to forget. We decided to help the townsfolk by erasing their bad memories. Now the people of Gravity Falls go about their lives ignorant and happy, thanks to us. And, as a perk, we help ourselves forget things that trouble us. Everyone has something they’d rather forget. In fact, your own brother was about to use that ray on himself. Isn’t that right?”

Stanford, unable to move, looked at Stanley. “Are you serious?”

Stanley glowered at the woman with a seething hate he held for very few. “No. She’s lying.”

Stanford looked back at “Growling” Grenda. “Don’t you see? This is ruining lives! What about ‘Old Woman’ Chiu? She lives in a hut and talks to animals, thanks to you. Don’t you feel bad about that?”

“Growling” Grenda hesitated. Something crossed through that hard gaze of hers. She shook her head. She fidgeted the circle to spell out “SUMMER”. The cultists put their hoods back on. “You won’t be telling anyone else what you’ve learned here. Say good-bye to your summer.” She aimed the gun at them.

“Grenda!”

“Growling” Grenda looked behind her as a heavy, low voice yelled. Tats–wearing maroon robes with his hood pulled back–walked up behind her, clutching Fiddleford by the nape of his shirt. “Found this boy rummaging through our things.”

Fiddleford glared at him, though he kept his head down. “Ah’m allowed to go there. Don’t pretend ya don’t know me, Tats!”

“Growling” Grenda pointed out, “He is allowed in the Hall of the Forgotten. Let him go.”

Stanford stared at him. “Wh… what? Fiddleford?”

Tats, with a heavy sigh, let him go. Fiddleford straightened himself out and, shooting one last glare back at the man who’d held him, looked back at the boys. His anger quickly turned into regret. “Hello.”

“What are you doing here? Why didn’t they capture you, too?” Stanford prompted, his voice quiet.

Stanley narrowed his eyes. “You’re one of them!”

Fiddleford flinched and stood up straight. “Ah am.”

Stanford could hardly command himself to breathe. _His best friend… the one he trusted more than most of his own family… was a traitor?_ “But… that can’t be right. You’re our friend.”

Fiddleford nodded. “Ah am. Ah’ve been here for three years, Stanford. Way longer than Ah knew you. ’Fact, Ah modified the memory gun maself.”

“But you never told me that.” _Fiddleford… a traitor… no, that wasn’t possible._

“Ah know. The Society is s’pposed to be a secret.”

“Growling” Grenda nodded. “He did well.”

Tats growled, “His friends broke in here, Grenda. We can’t trust him.”

“We can trust him,” “Growling” Grenda stated. “Right?”

Fiddleford nodded, hands held tight behind his back. “Right, Ma’am.”

“No…” Stanford breathed.

Stanley snapped, “You cowardly, superstitious, brainless traitor! We’re your friends, man! We trusted you! You helped us!”

“Ah know and Ah’m not a traitor,” Fiddleford crossed, his voice light despite the venom that was being thrown at him. “Ah told you not ta come here, Ah begged ya. But ya didn’t listen ta me. Ya never listen.” He hesitated and then took a few steps back. “Ah’m sorry. Ah promised ta look after ya, Ah promised ta make sure ya stayed out a’ the Society and they wouldn’t erase your memories. But…”

“They ignored you,” “Growling” Grenda agreed and looked down at the gun. “Now.”

“Wait! If you think he’s loyal to us, let _him_ do it,” Tats stated. Agreement murmured through the crowd. Fiddleford’s gaze flicked about.

“Growling” Grenda dipped her head. “Very well. Fiddleford.” She held out the gun for him. “SUMMER” glowed in cold green letters on the face.

Stanley gasped, “Fiddleford! _Don’t!_ ”

Dan shook his head. “Don’t do this, man!”

“You wouldn’t,” Stanford stated, struggling to put energy in his voice.

Fiddleford took the gun from her. “Ah-Ah’m sorry. But the Society’s secrets belong to us.”

Stanley glowered at him. “Fine! I don’t care! Erase all our memories. Just as long as I don’t have to remember trusting a cowardly traitor like _you!”_

Fiddleford nodded. The gun shook in his hands as he raised it. “Ah’m sorry.” He gasped as “Old Woman” Chiu chucked a trashcan lid at the gun, effectively knocking it out of his hands. “Ow!”

The kids gasped, “Chiu?!”

“Old Woman” Chiu charged through the ranks of the robed members and, once she stopped by them, sliced their bonds with a pickax. “I raided the mining display for weapons. Now fight!” she cried and faced the crowd.

Stanley dragged out a banjo and cackled like a madman. Dan pulled out a branch with a racoon on it. Stanford took an informational board about dysentery. “Oh, come on!”

“They know too much!” “Growling” Grenda cried. “Don’t let them escape!”

Dan swung the racoon stick so hard, the nearest cultist, the man who married a woodpecker, collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

Stanley swung his banjo and knocked Thompson back. “Get this song out of your head, sucker!” He bashed another person with it nearby.

Fiddleford bolted.

Stanford ducked under the arms of a cultist attempting to attack him, dropped the Display and raced to the other side of the room, where Chiu’s memory tube lay. “Mrs. Chiu’s memories!”

Tats raised his fist. “Oh no you don’t!”

Stanford gasped, shoved the tube into one of the transfer tubes, and ducked. Tats’ fist sunk into the brick wall. “Stanley! Catch!”

Stanley raced to the other end of the tube. The farmer tripped him and grabbed the memory tube once it flew out. “I’ll take that, thank you. Give it up, boy. You’re no match for the unstoppable power of-” He stopped speaking as Stanley turned the pipe. It caught on Sprott’s robes and tore them off. Sprott threw the tube in surprise. Stanley recoiled, disgusted, as Sprott was in his underwear. “That’s right. I don’t wear nothin’ under my robe. Not gunna apologize for that. Maybe y’all should apologize for bein’ a bunch of prudes.”

“Ew!” The boys recoiled from him.

Dan picked up the memory gun. “Growling” Grenda snatched it away from Dan, shoved him, and turned to Stanford. “Give me that tube.”

“Never!” Stanford snapped and threw the tube up. “Old Woman” Chiu held the pipe that sucked the memory tube in. “This belongs to Chiu!” He and “Growling” Grenda chased the memory tube.

“The Society’s secrets belong to us!”

The pipe spat out the memory tube at the end of the hallway. “Growling” Grenda tripped Stanford and, as Stanford recovered, grabbed the tube. Stanley helped Stanford to his feet. Dan stood behind them. They were weaponless. “Growling” Grenda turned her weapon on them. “End of the line.” The group tried to back up, but there was nowhere for them to go. “By tomorrow, this will all seem like a bad dream. Say goodbye to your precious memories.” The memory gun blazed in blue light.

Stanford shielded his eyes. “NO!”

The room lit up in the intensity of the glare.

Stanford opened his eyes. He… was fine. He looked up. “Old Woman” Chiu stood in front of him. She blinked her eyes in a slow haze. “Chiu. You took a bullet for me. Are you okay?”

She blinked and then grinned. “Okay as I’ll ever be!”

“ _What?”_ Stanford breathed.

“Growling” Grenda, the memory tube held tight her chest, pointed the gun at her. “Wh-what? Why didn’t that work?”

 “Hit me with your best shot!” “Old Woman” Chiu laughed. “My memory’s been gone thirty-odd years. You can’t break what’s already been _broken!_ ”

“Growling” Grenda attempted to squeeze the trigger, but nothing happened. The bulb fizzled, as if wanting to activate, but wasn’t given a proper command. “Old Woman” Chiu stood between her and the boys. For a while, the two stared each other down. “Growling” Grenda, her grip firm but shaking, kept the gun pointed at “Old Woman” Chiu. “Old Woman” Chiu stared right back at her, weaponless and fearless. “Why-why… why… urgh!” The gun shook in her hand. “Old Woman” Chiu’s mad smile left her. She looked at the gun and then at Grenda, whose teary eye never left hers. “I’m sorry for hurting you.” Grenda stopped shaking. “I… shouldn’t be here. None of us should be.” Grenda turned the gun so that the bulb faced her own head and parted the hair by her ear. It went off in a blaze of light.

The memory tube rolled away and tapped Stanford’s foot.

Candy raced to the woman’s side and shook her. The gun was a foot away, having been dropped. “Grandy! Gra–Gri–Grendy–Grenda!”

The woman opened her eye and sat up, her eye unfocused in a hazy blur. She looked up at the woman hovering over her. “Wha… where am I?”

Candy stared down at her, speechless.

Stanley ran to her side. “Hey, Grenda! You came with us to the museum, don’t you remember? You dressed up like a weird cultist and stuff. Do you wanna go home?”

“Oh…?” “Growling” Grenda blinked. “Yeah… I should do that.” She got up and hobbled off.

 

The cultists, many of whom had been rendered unconscious in the fight but woke up, were tied to the same pillar Dan, Stanley, and Stanford and been tied to. Stanley prowled around them.

Dan prompted, “Is that all of them?”

Stanley growled, “All but Fiddleford.”

“Unhand us!” Tats demanded.

Stanley sneered, “It isn’t so fun being tied up, is it? Hey! Wanna draw on their faces?” Stanley took out a marker and, giggling childishly, wrote “BUTTS” on Tat’s head.

“What?” Tats glared at Stanley, who laughed. “That’s not funny!”

“It is totally funny,” Stanley snickered.

“It’s objectively funny,” Dan shrugged.

“We’ll have our revenge,” Tats growled. “We’ll never forget what you’ve done.”

Stanford held up the memory gun. “Are you sure about that?” Tats’ anger dissipated in an instant. Stanford entered “SOCIETY OF THE BLIND EYE” into the gun and pointed it at them. The cultist struggled against their bonds. The gun went off in a flash of blue light.

 

They stood outside in the dusk valley, now. Stanley held out a bag. People filed out, one by one, in their normal clothes. They dropped money in the bag as they went. Stanley grinned. “Thanks for visiting the Museum for Gold Miner Appreciation Night! Be sure to tip your hosts on the way out!”

Stanford turned to “Old Woman” Chiu. “Are you ready to remember? To find out who you really are?”

“Old Woman” Chiu shifted her weight. “I’m not sure. What if I don’t like what I see?”

Dan patted her shoulder. “We’ve come all this way. Go on.”

“Old Woman” Chiu looked down at the tube and then at the kids.

 

The old woman set the tube inside of the holder on the computer. The computer screen came to life. A green outline of the Blind Eye symbol appeared. It fell away to show an image of Candy Chiu, thirty years younger, in her study. “DAY 1.” was stamped in yellow at the bottom left part of the screen.

_Candy Chiu, her large glasses partially hiding her light eyes, stood up straight and tall and stared at the camera. “My name is Candy Chiu and I wish to unsee what I have seen.”_

The kids gasped. “Old Woman” Chiu whispered something in her native language.

_Twenty-late-something-year-old Candy put a hand on her head. Her fingers snaked through her long, shiny black hair. “For the past year, I have been working as an assistant for a visiting researcher.” She let go of her head. “She has been cataloging her findings about Gravity Falls in a series of scrapbooks.”_

As she spoke, Stanford took out the scrapbook and opened it. It flipped to the page of weird symbols and lines.

_“I helped her build a machine which she believed had the potential to benefit everyone. But something went wrong. I’ve decided to quit the project.” She held her hands behind her back._

Stanford lowered the journal to watch the screen.

 _“But… but I have not_ quit _. She’ll see one day that this machine is nothing but evil.” She shut her eyes. “I am helped by my best friend. We will save her. But for now…” She shuttered and straightened herself out. “I can’t live with this… with what I’ve seen. I believe I have invented a machine that can permanently erase these memories from my mind.” She pulled out the ray gun. It was shiny, hardly touched, and very new. “Test Subject One: Candy.” She pressed the muzzle of the gun to the side of her head and shut her eyes. The flash went off._

The screen turned to static before turning on again. “DAY 5.” Was stamped on the bottom.

_Candy, bright-eyed and excited, appeared on the screen. “It worked! I can’t remember a thing!”_

Day 22.

_Candy held up a black notebook with the Blind Eye written on it. Behind her, her workspace was disheveled. The image was everywhere. Her potted plant had wilted. A handprint slapped across the wall. “I call it: The Society of the Blind Eye!” She threw away the red marker she had been holding and held up the book so that it was under her nose. “We’ll help those who want to forget by erasing their bad memories!”_

Day 74.

_Candy Chiu, her workplace in shambles, shivered. She was disheveled and kept brushing her hands off with her other hand. “HELP ME” scrawled across the side of the room in red spray paint. “Today, I… I can’t find her. I can’t find her! We look for her b-but I can’t find her!” She tore out strands of her hair. “We came across another dead end. He looked like her, but he didn’t talk like her.”_

Day 189.

_Candy Chiu wasn’t wearing a coat. Her shirt was torn. Her arm was in a cast and a sling. One lens of her large, circular glasses was cracked. Her eye twitched. “I accidentally hit another car in town today. I feel terri-bibble!” Her glasses fell down her nose, so she straightened them. “Terrible. I keep forgetting words lately. I stopped using that–”_

Day 273.

_Candy Chiu’s hair was graying, and she shivered like a leaf. She wasn’t in her study. She stood inside a motel room. A blizzard picked up outside. “He took her place! I know it! I know it! She’s here, he’s just faking! He knows where she went, and he won’t say!” She tore out a bit of her hair. Her glasses fell off her nose._

Day 618.

_Candy Chiu was no longer shivering. She was still in the motel and still had that cast. She was no longer wearing glasses. “My apartment got evicted so Candy stays here now! Hehe… wait, what was I doing?”_

Day ???

_Candy Chiu, wild-eyed and now in the dump, laughed and chattered on in gibberish. “Yroo Xrksvi! Girzmtov!”_

Static.

They stared at the screen as it hissed in static. Mrs. Chiu stayed at the front, her arms hanging at her sides and shoulders slumped.

Stanford looked at Mrs. Chiu. “I’m so sorry, Chiu.”

Mrs. Chiu walked up to the computer and took out the memory tube. She turned to face them, though she kept a fond gaze down at the memory tube. “Aw, no. You kids helped me get my memories back, just like you said you would.”

Stanley looked at his brother and then Mr. Chiu. “But did you want those memories back?”

Mrs. Chiu smiled. “After all these years, I finally know who I am. Candy messed up in the past. Now she will fix her mistakes.”

Stanford looked down at the scrapbook. “So, you’re not the author. But you worked with her. Do you remember who she was?”

Mrs. Chiu narrowed her eyes in concentration. “It’s coming back to me, but… I need more time.” She looked at the computer and smiled. “I have some remembering to do.”

 

They hopped into Dan’s truck. Mrs. Chiu sat in the back with Stanford and Stanley this time. She looked through Scrapbook Three. “It’s all so familiar… Almost like I can remember…”

When Dan dropped them off at the Shack, Stanley waved good-bye while Stanford slunk inside. Stanley ran inside after him. “Ford? Ford, come on.”

Stanford stopped and stared at his feet. “What?”

“Come on, we didn’t find the author, but we found the author’s assistant. We’re helping Mrs. Chiu recover her memories. We defeated an entire cult!”

“Fiddleford betrayed us.”

“Yeah, that’s sucked.” Stanley huffed. “But c’mon, he’s one in a million. Who needs him right? You still have Dan, Maria, Grunkle Dipper, and I.”

“He was our _friend_ , Stanley.” Stanford looked up at his brother. “I trusted him!”

“Yeah, we all did,” Stanley agreed. “And he turned out to be a jerk. So, we know not to trust him anymore! Aw, dude. You still have us.”

“Do we?” Stanford prompted. “Fiddleford was our best friend and he turned out to be a _cultist_ that was ready to _erase our memories._ What other crazy things are hiding in Gravity Falls? What if Dan or Maria had some weird big secret? Susan was his best friend, what is she knew and didn’t tell us? Wh-what if Grunkle Dipper–”

“Dude!” Stanley put his hands on his brother’s shoulders. “Calm down! Yeah, Fidds turned out to be a jerk. But that’s our family you’re talking about, now. Grunkle Dipper would never do anything to hurt us. Maybe Dan and Maria have some weird secret but maybe not. Grunkle Dipper trusts them!”

“He was nothing out of the ordinary either, Stanley. There was nothing bad about him.”

Stanley frowned and nodded. “Yeah, I know. Hey, I have an idea! Let’s go get our mind off this and get some victory nachos and watch some mindless TV! We should lose enough braincells by then.”

Stanford sighed. “Yeah, sure.”

“C’mon. Race you to the kitchen!” He turned around and darted off. Stanford followed at a walking pace. _Fiddleford betrayed them. Bill betrayed him. Who could he trust, anymore?_ No, Stanley was right. Fiddleford was a traitor, but they could always rely on Grunkle Dipper. Always.

 

In the basement, Grunkle Dipper heaved a large barrel up and poured its contents into a machine labeled “FUEL”. “All right, you’re getting closer.”

He, a mug in one hand a pad of paper in the other, approached the glowing triangle machine. “Every day, you’re growing stronger.” A gust of wind picked up and sucked the mug, pen, and notebook into the portal. Grunkle Dipper gasped and put his cap back on his head as it had tried to escape. He laughed. “Yeah! OW!” He yelped as a pipe scraped past his hand and flew into the portal. He grimaced and bandaged his hand. “I don’t care if it’s dangerous. I don’t care how long it takes. I’m going to pull this off and _no one_ will get in my way!”

 

J… OWA’W EFUFIYOC KBGM N MSNF QWE WLLT ZVR. IMGEWMFWMFLD.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Virulent, that gun is. It is unfortunate such pure intentions became so maliciously corrupted. Good deeds, bad deeds, you can convince yourself of anything if you’re scared enough. Nevertheless, the kids have prevailed and Mrs. Chiu is getting her memory back. Er–for good! Right? Everyone goes home happy since thankfully no one was effected by that gun…
> 
>  
> 
> 7: _Vyqghh Wipg Fweqe, Oqilhhe Eprb Jdmw, jhw Fb Uzvvjlw Usml Zmom Qwejiw Je Iyo._


	7. Blendin's Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, it’s a special day at the Space Shack. Wow, I sure hop **e** Stanford’s psych is still a-okay after being betrayed by two of his greatest friends! How’s Maria doing, anyway?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the Title Card on DA:

_July 13 th, 207̃012._

Blue buildings glimmering in cyan lights clear of debris or wear floated just outside the reach of a city under the full moon. A great chunk was missing from the bottom of the moon while fissures, some deep and wide and others tiny and thin, broke through the bottom like shattered glass. Hovering before an infinity-shaped building was a sign labeled “Infinetentiary”. An alarm went off and the sign, as well as a few radio-tower-shaped poles nearby, blazed with flashing red lights.

Lights glowed over the tall, dark buildings under the night sky. A hooded figure, wheezing in exhaustion and fear, skittered around a corner and dove into a side street. The glowing green sign with a giant baby head in it labeled “TIME BABY IS WATCHING” set a greenish glow over his midnight, hooded cloak. The sign quickly turned scarlet with the giant yellow letters: “EMERGENCY” above and below a yellow-lined box containing the golden words: “ESCAPED CONVICT ON THE LOOSE”.

Exasperated and breaths coming in terrified, exhausted wheezes, the cloaked figure raced down through a sparsely populated alley. The time police, led by the people who caught Blendin–Dundgren and Lolph–raced after him. A black orb with a green light flew above them as they pursued the escaped convict.

Nastily, a deep voice boomed, “HALT!”

Dundgren admitted, flashing a glance at his blond-haired partner. “I’ve got to hand it to this perp. No one’s broken out of the Infinitentiary before.”

In agreement, Lolph huffed, “He’s either the bravest time convict I’ve ever seen, or the dumbest.”

Now, the cloaked figure, spooked further, turned to run into another alley. He instead ran straight into a wall. Confused and disoriented but still pumped full of fight-or-flight adrenaline, he attempted to move forward but walked into a few yellow barrels and collapsed. He rolled over so that he wasn’t on his stomach and set his hands on his knee. His hood fell off, revealing his identity. Blendin growled, “Oh! My time-knee! Oh, time-dangit!”

Immediately, Dundgren stopped before him. “Definitely the dumbest.” He lowered his gun as other people, a tank, and two helicopters surrounded him.

Superior in voice and position, Lolph commanded, “Freeze! You’re surrounded by the Time Paradox Avoidance Enforcement Squadron. Anything you say can, and already has been, used against you in future court.”

Virulent, purple energy sparking between them, Dundgren pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Instead of a metal chain, purple electricity arced and knitted itself together to create a wobbling bind. “This is it, Blendin. End of the timeline. Any last words?”

Eyes, hidden by goggles, went wide. He held an arm in front of himself and sputtered. “I-I-I-I…” He shut his eyes, threw his hands down at his side, and yelled, “I INVOKE GLOBNAR!” By this time, a crowd had accumulated. They gasped and the word “Globnar” rippled through their ranks.

Running his fingers over the handcuffs, Dundgren stared at him in surprise. The woven purple electricity fizzled out of existence. He put away the cuffs. His look of surprise melted away as he put on a mask of emotionlessness. Dundgren took out a black, green-etched tablet. “Very well. Speak the name and century of those accused.”

“Yeah!” Blendin stared back at him. “The kids that ruined my life: Stanford and Stanley Pines, 21st century.” The tablet in Dundgren’s hands, which previously held the letters “TPAES” switched to: “SEARCHING” surrounded by a darker blue box on its cyan screen. Eventually, it arrived at a screen showing Stanford and Stanley, giggling and laughing, hitting each other with hollow, plastic baseball bats. “LIVE FEED” ran across the top and “LOCATED” across the bottom, all in blue. A scarlet stamp ran across the screen from the bottom left corner to the top right. “GLOBNAR TRIBUTES”. The screen was reflected on the giant screen in the city as they replaced the “criminal found” screen.

Understanding passed between Lolph and Dundgren. “So be it,” Lolph stated. “May Time Baby have mercy on their souls.”

 

_13 th, 2012._

Perfectly warm sunlight heated the valley and filtered into the old windows of the Space Shack. The Space Shack stood bright and happy as ever. Inside, Stanford put a few coins into the vending machine and punched in the code “22C”. “Can-dy! Can-dy! Can-dy!” Stanford and Stanley chanted as they watched the metal coil with the bag of Yumber Jacks bring it forward. However, it stopped one coil too soon. The bag drooped but did not fall free.

Stanford gasped, “No! It’s trapped!”

“Everything is terrible forever!” Stanley pressed his forehead to the glass face of the vending machine.

Then, Maria walked around to look at it. “Oh! Psst, _chicos_.” The two took a step back and looked at her. A calm smile lit up her features. “Do you wish to know a trick?” She set her broom by the machine, tapped the machine a few times and then hit the lip of it with her elbow. The door opened. “A _genio_ taught me that once,” Maria claimed as he grabbed the “Yumber Jacks” bag with her middle and forefinger and dragged it down. As an afterthought, she took out two more pieces of candy and shut the door. “Here you go!”

“That’s awesome!” Stanley gasped. “Maria, you are seriously amazing.”

“Heh! Whoa!” Stanford gladly took the candy from her.

As Maria stuck a few coins in the machine to pay for the items, she chuckled. “Oh, _gracias!_ Do not mention it. I would do anything for the Pines family.”

“ _Thanks_. Maria!” Grunkle Dipper called. “Come up help me with this, uh… whatever it is, please!”

“Hmm?” Maria looked up and called back, “Coming Mr. Pines! See you two later.” She ran off, leaving her wallet on the counter in her rush.

“Eh. We better make sure she gets her wallet back.” Stanford picked up the pink accented wallet.

“Whoa, look, Ford.” Before he could walk off with it, Stanley put a hand on Stanford’s shoulder. “I’ve never seen Maria’s wallet before. Don’t you want to learn some Maria secrets?”

“Ah, no.” Stanford shook his head. “No, not really. Secrets are secrets for a reason. If she hasn’t told us something, it’s because she doesn’t want to. Besides, the last time we learned a big secret from one of our friends…”

“She’s too tame to be a _cultist_.” Stanley’s gaze flicked to the wallet. He gasped and picked out a card poking out of it. Maria’s picture was on the front along with the company name, her rank: “Good Enuff”, and four explosion stickers put on four of five boxes. “Oooh! She has a membership to Laser Tag! I didn’t know she liked Laser Tag.”

“I know that’s cool, but–ugh! Stanley!”

“Mari’s ID!” Stanley took out a little ID card. Maria had a calm smile. “Maria Ramirez… wait, look at this!” Stanley pointed to the bottom. “Her birthday is–!”

“Today!” Stanford finished. “Whoa… why didn’t she tell anyone?”

“Right-o!” Stanley put the card back in the wallet. “Isn’t it obvious? She wants someone to throw a surprise party for her!”

 

“IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY!!!” a banner that Susan finished hanging up later that day screamed. She looked over the table with cake, soda, cups, and plates on it. “Wow. You guys really thought of everything.”

Stanley puffed out his chest. “Yeah. You know, twins are birthday  _experts._ ”

“Oh, yes.” Stanford nodded and stood beside Stanley. “We’ve shared every birthday together, so we know how to make them  _amazing_.” The twins high-sixed.

Now, Stanley commented, “It’s nice you’re helpin’ us out.”

“Egk. I’m not helping _you_ out,” Susan stated simply, throwing a cold look over her shoulder as she fixed the bottles. “I’m helping Maria, who seems to be a very nice lady. You know, nice. Like other people I know who are nice. Mrs. Grenda, Mrs. Chiu, Fiddleford…”

Daring to glare at her, Stanley huffed, “I told you we’re not havin’ that argument again!”

“I’ll tell you if we are or are not having an argument, Stanley Pines, so don’t you talk back to me! You’re lucky I’m here at all after you broke my friend’s heart like that. If it wasn’t for the fact he begged me not to, I’d kick your, and your brother’s–!”

Stanford turned his head. “Oh! I hear footsteps!”

“Places, everyone!” Stanley hissed and dove behind a table.

Maria walked around a corner. She took her eyes off the porch behind her and to the yard, where she looked about the party constructed for her. Stanford, Stanley, and Susan jumped up behind the table and threw confetti into the air. “Surprise!” they cried. Maria froze, eyes wide as moons.

The three ran over to her side. Stanley elbowed Maria. “Happy birthday, you queen! We got everything you love. Chocolate cake, pizza, purple jam–” He turned around to point at a poster. “And ‘Pin the Tail on The Donkey’! Which, of course, could easily become ‘Pin-The-Tail-on-Anything-Close-to-You’.”

“I… I…” Maria stuttered, hardly even breathing.

Stanley took out a camera. “Picture time! Come on!” Stanford and Susan gathered around Maria and smiled. The camera flashed and ejected a picture. The kids–all but Maria–looked at it. Although Stanford couldn’t look happier, Susan was grinning, and Stanley was excited, Maria was… frowning.

Stanford looked up at her, his own smile gone. “Maria, what’s wrong?”

“It is nothing,” Maria stuttered. “I think I left a mess back in the Shack. Excuse me.” Maria walked off, head down, eyes closed, and trembling hands at her side.

Grunkle Dipper and Dan walked around the same corner, their gaze following Maria. Dan prompted, “Hey, did you kid see Maria? What happened to–oh no.” Dan’s eyes went wide and the two stopped as they looked over the party. Grunkle Dipper put a hand to his mouth. “Okay, so It’s not your fault as you didn’t know. But Maria  _hates_  her birthday.”

“ _What?_ ” Stanley and Stanford asked, their voices so close together they were an echo.

Dan shrugged. “It’s a total mystery. She’s been like this since way before I knew her. It’s just some weird personal business.”

Stanley shook his head. “C’mon! There’s got to be  _something_  we can do!”

Dan sighed. “We’ve tried everything.”

Grunkle Dipper nodded. “Yeah, I even tried getting Soos to tell me. Anytime I ask, we just… start talking about something else.”

They looked around the corner. Maria sat on the porch, sad eyes cast down at a crumpled paper in her hands.

Dan shook his head. “Look, I don’t think we should be getting involved.”

Stanford said, “No one should be alone on their birthday. There has to be a way to cheer her up.”

“You’re right, Ford!” Stanley agreed. “It’s time for us to bring out the big guns!”

 

 _Mr. ZZZ’s Big Gunz Laser Tag_  flickered and blazed with all types of colors ranging from bright hues of red to deep shades of purple. Lights flickered and shot from place to place. People milled about, children running around at their feet. Stanford, Stanley, Grunkle Dipper, and Dan walked inside. Stanford held onto Maria’s wrist as Maria wore blindfolds.

“Okay, _chicos_. I trust you, but like I said, I have things I must be doing,” Maria tried to sound firm, but her voice was soft and edged in smothered grief. She tipped her head. “Wait… huh? Hot dogs? Sticky floor? Future sounds?” Maria tapped the ground with her foot. Her shoes resisted the force a bit as the floor was sticky. She took off her blind fold as soon as Stanford let go of her. She looked around. “Laser tag? I love laser tag.” Soon enough, her smile had tentatively returned. “How did you kids know?”

Stanford shrugged. “Lucky guess.”

“Yeah we totally didn’t go rifling through y–oof!” Stanley winced as Stanford elbowed him in the gut.

Behind Stanley, a TV switched to a background of a broken city, most of its buildings lying in ruins. “MISSION BRIEFING” glowed in light blue letters. As the camera moved to take in the scenery, the announcer stated, “It’s the year 8000. Society: collapsed. Fog machines: everywhere.”

Dan patted the light purple wall. His hand sunk into it a few inches. “Are the walls made of spray-painted mattresses?”

Grunkle Dipper put a hand to his chin. “Yeah, I think this used to be a mattress place.”

Maria donned her laser tag gear. “Um… I do not know _chicos_. I do not really–I do not know if I am up to it right now.”

Stanford smiled. “Don’t worry, Maria. As soon as you start playing with us, you’re going to have a great time!”

Stanley gave her a sharp nod. “Yeah! We promise that no matter what happens, we will not leave your side!” He held up his laser gun like a trophy. “Besides, Stanford’s so terrible it’s hilarious. I’d betcha you could easily–oof!” He laughed as Stanford shoved him.

Maria adjusted his grip on the gun. “Well… I guess I could give it a shot.”

They lined up behind a set of double doors. A long screen overhead stated: “STAND BY”. Then, the announcer’s voice blared through the speakers above them. “Prepare for laser battle! In three, two, one,  _GO!_ ” The doors whipped open as the letters on the screen changed to the word “GO” in pastel green. Dan and Grunkle Dipper ran in first. As soon as they were through the doors, Stanley and Stanford ran forward. Maria nearly tripped over herself as one shoe became untied. With a short mutter, Maria tied her shoe and ran inside. The Stan twins were not there, however. She looked about. “Stanford? Stanley?”

The double doors before Stanford and Stanley flashed white and within seconds they were inside a large, colorless room. The white wall vanished so that no one else could intrude. Stanley looked about. “Whoa! This place is so cool! Look at how real these laser guys are!” He looked up at Lolph.

Stanford stiffened as he looked up at two faces they’d only seen for a few very memorable moments weeks ago. He put a hand on Stanley’s shoulder and looked up at them. “Stanley, I don’t think these are laser tag people.” He looked back. Behind white bars, they could see Maria tie her shoe. “Maria!”

“Oh no!” Stanley raced to the wall. However, the image was gone. He kicked the solid white wall that replaced it. It clanged like hard steel.

“Nice try.” Lolph’s sharp voice brought them back. Not even the smallest smile tricked them into thinking that he was not wearing a mask with an eternally hard expression. “But that’s solid time-tanium, kid! There’s only one way out of here.”

Blendin, only his head and hands visible, stated, “Through me.” The kids gave him a puzzled look. He looked down and grumbled. “Oh, uh…” He fiddled with his watch. His suit changed from scene to scene. “Sorry…. C-come on…” His uniform turned gray again. He lowered his hands and stared at them. “Through me! A-and that’s what it would be like if I’d just… gotten it right the very first chance, but i-it’s still as effective.”

Stanford and Stanley gasped. So, these  _were_  the time people! Stanley looked him over. “You’re that time traveler guy! …what did you say your name was, again?” Stanley tapped his foot. “Uh, Blendo… Blondin… Blar-Blar! That’s it, right?” Stanford looked at him.  _Blendin Blandin. Wow you have a poor memory._

“It’s Blendin!” Blendin snapped. “Blendin Blenjamin Blandin! How could you  _not_  know my name after you ruined my life?!”

Stanford and Stanley looked at each other and then back at him with a comically exaggerated look of confusion.  _Well, he got arrested. But if it was_ their _fault, why would_ his _life be ruined?_

Blendin tapped his wrist. “Initiate flashback!” A wide screen appeared before them. The hologram projected the scene where Blendin had been dragged away. “It was after you stole my device to win your stupid goat!” The scene changed to Blendin with Lolph and Dundgren in front of a counter. “I was cast out of the Time Anomaly Removal Crew; my whole life’s purpose.” The man behind the counter tore off Blendin’s name tag. His gray suit turned to black and white stripes. The scene changed to him in a meal line in a prison. He got his meal and sat down, turning his mashed food into the shape of Stanford and Stanley’s faces. “And then I was given ten squared life sentences in time prison.” He smashed his fist into the images so that their faces were unrecognizably distorted and smeared them together. “I spent every day since then planning my vengeance.” The hologram turned off. “And now, finally, it has come!”

Stanford glanced back. “Okay, we’re sorry about all that, but we’re in the middle of something  _very_  important.”

Stanley nodded, “Yeah! It’s our friend’s birthday and we promised not to leave her side.” Stanley didn’t give them the big round eyes a regular kid would give upon being pulled away from a birthday party. His gaze was hard and flicked between the three of them. His words were not a beg, they were a challenge.

Blendin scoffed, “What? You think some dumb birthday matters right now? Do you know where you are?”

Stanley cut in with a snide remark before Blendin could finish his own sentence, “A box made of titanium?”

Blendin’s sneer grew larger. “Welcome to…” He pointed his finger to the opposite wall. It shimmered and turned into many white strips of light like a cell. “Globnar!” The three approached the bars so that they were right in front of the action.

Outside was complete chaos. Someone fell through an infinite loop of portals as one was above, and one was below him. Someone else ran around, screaming, as they were on fire. Another person wielding a spear chucked his weapon at a giant purple blob with a clock for a face. The spear fell into its gelatin body and it quickly swallowed the man. Two people chased each other with glowing swords. Each hit from the sword turned the victim to a different age. Another couple battled with sticks ending in two large, glowing round pieces. They hopped as the ground they were on was a clock and one hand would spin beneath them like a tightrope. Two other people sparred upside down on a glowing purple top-spinner.

“Is this a reality show?” Stanley prompted. “Are we in Japan?”

Blendin crowed, “It’s gladiatorial time combat!”

Ahead of them, just yards away from the staring children and former time anomaly remover, two men fought–one with a black suit accented blue and another with a black suit accented green. The green one fell with a huff. His weapon skittered out of his hands. The one in the blue stood victorious. He was raised up on a platform and stared down at the loser with cruel dark eyes.

Blendin explained, “The winner gets a precious time wish.” A glowing orange orb with a white hourglass suspended within hovered in the man’s left hand. “-and then decides the winner’s fate!”

The green one, now in the blue one’s shadow, cowered. He shook his head and drew into himself. “N-no! Please!” He shook his head. The blue one held out his right hand, raised it, closed his hand into a fist so that his thumb was up, and turned his hand down. A large, cruel smirk drew across his features. The man in green shrieked in terror as a pink laser larger in radius than the man in green engulfed him. Before their very eyes, he was vaporized into nothingness.

Stanley and Stanford stared at the empty space in sheer terror. Blendin cackled and turned to them. “And the two of you are officially  _challenged!_ ” Blendin turned around and walked further into their white-cell prison. “Dundgren! Get me my war paint!”

Stanley turned to Stanford. “Ford, we  _have_  to get out of here.”

Stanford looked about. His gaze fell on the tape measure on Lolph’s toolbelt. “I have an idea.”

 

Maria walked through the laser tag arena on light feet. “Stanford? Stanley? Uh… requesting backup? Oh!” Maria looked down as a laser activated her chest piece.

Janice, standing next to her, shot a laser at her chest a few times and laughed. “Ha-ha! Laser Janice!”

“Kids?” Maria looked about.

 

Stanley cleared his throat and looked up at Lolph. “Oh my stars!” Stanley gasped, “Could it be? My little Lolphie?” Stanley asked and then grinned. “It’s me! Your great, great, great-” Stanley glanced at Stanford, who waved his hands a few times and then held it up. “-great, great, great, great grandfather! From the past times.” Stanford carefully took the time device from Lolph’s belt and took a quiet step back.

Lolph stared at Stan with narrowed eyes. A look of realization was tailed by a small smile and round eyes. “Gramp-gramp?”

Dundgren painted Blendin’s face a lime green color and in a shape so that a sideways timer went over his eyes like a racoon’s mask. “Yeah, neon green is good, this is the color for me. It’s fierce-” Blendin glanced back and gasped. “Who? What? No! You can’t let them escape! Stop them!” Blendin dove for Stanford, who evaded him and ran off, brother at his side. Dundgren tripped over Blendin and fell on the hard ground.

“Gramp-gramp!” Lolph gasped. “How could you?”

“I ain’t nobody’s Gramp-gramp!” Stanley cackled and locked arms with Stanford. “See you never, suckers!”

“No!” Dundgren and Blendin yelled in slow motion.

“Hurry!” Stanley hissed. “Back to Maria’s birthday!”

“Okay, I think I’ve got it.” Stanford opened up the time tape. They vanished in a spark of blue energy.

 

_July 13 th, 2002._

They appeared a few feet above a mattress and huffed as they landed belly-first on the old thing. Stanley got to his knees. “Uh… are we back?”

Stanford got up, too. “Oh, no! Look! Stanley, we went too far back. This isn’t laser tag!”

Stanley groaned. “Uuuugh! Why does time travel have to be so complicated?”

A blue spark of energy buzzed above them. Stanley and Stanford dove under the bed and hid. Dundgren looked about. “It looks like they’ve overshot their destination by ten years.”

“I don’t see them,” Blendin growled and wiped off the face paint. He was wearing handcuffs with purple electricity instead of chains. “You better find those kids!”

Lolph stated, “You’ll get your justice Blendin.”

“You better!” Blendin hissed and then jumped off the bed. “I’m going to keep stammering until you find them! I-I-I-I…!”

Lolph growled, “I hate that guy.”

“Let’s move,” Dundgren stated.

They jumped, flipped over the mattresses and landed in front of the door. “Yeah!” They fist-bumped and followed Blendin out.

“Okay,” Stanford breathed. “We just have to go forward ten years. We can be back before Maria even realizes we were gone.”

Stanley pulled out the time device and gasped. A spark of blue electricity arched through a control panel under the bent flap in the machine. “The time thing is busted! Can you fix it?” He immediately handed it to Stanford.

Stanford took the device and looked it over. “Maybe. I need some tools, though. …I think I know where we can find some.”

 

A sign stating “SPACE SHACK 1 mile” popped up in the street as they walked out of the mattress store. “Okay, let’s try to lay low. We don’t want to change, or cause, the future.” They looked about the scenery. Despite the streets looking nearly the same, the people were different. Sherriff Na–Officer Nate walked through the street. Tats from the biker joint was getting a tattoo in a parlor next to the mattress store. Gordy held a boombox. They passed up a graffitied billboard of Gideon and few-month-old Bud.

“Wow. Everything is so  _different,_ ” Stanley gasped. Kid Janice chased Kid Toby through the street with a water gun. “Yet it’s the same!”

 

The two kids stopped in the woods just shy of the Space Shack. Grunkle Dipper didn’t look as if he had changed a day. He spoke to the crowd in a loud, clear voice with an optimistic smile and grand gestures.

Stanford and Stanley took off their laser tag vests. Stanford looked over at Grunkle Dipper and then nodded. “Alright. Coast is clear.”

“Now’s our chance!” Stanley hissed and darted across the lawn, Stanford at heel. They ran to open the giftshop window and climbed in. Immediately next to them was a box full of tools. It sat beside the ice machine, which was partially taken apart. Stanley landed behind him.

“Alright, let’s see…” Stanford picked up a red screwdriver and tinkered with the time machine.

“Aw, come on, Candy! Fall!” The light complaint could be heard behind them. Stanford, too engrossed in his work to notice anything, didn’t look behind him. However, Stanley did. In front of the vending machine, a young, brunette girl tapped the window. Her treat hung over the edge of the metal spiral that held it prisoner.

Stanley tromped over to her. “Allow me.” The little kid took a few steps back to allow Stanley room. “You just gotta know the trick to it.” He patted the machine’s front and then hit it with his elbow just like Maria had done. The door creaked open. He took a handful of the desired snacks, shut the door and held it out for the girl. “Jackpot!” As soon as he saw the kid’s face, he gasped. Twelve-year-old Maria donned in a pretty dress and a birthday hat smiled up at him. “Thank you, _señor!_ ” Maria’s accent was much thicker. She turned and walked away, admiring the new treats. “You must be some type of genius!”

Stanford stood up and admired his handiwork. “Alright. I think I’ve got this thing working.”

Stanley grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. “ _Ford!_  Ford! Look.” He turned Stanford’s face so that he saw Maria.

“No. Way,” Stanford breathed.

Soos shambled into the gift shop, where Maria was admiring a shirt. “There you are! Maria, you shouldn’t keep wandering off. You don’t want to be late for your big day!”

Maria held up her hand so that her grandfather could take it. “Sorry, _Abuelo_.”

“Big day?” Stanley turned to Stanford. “And she’s actually happy! This could be the day when that bad stuff went on! We can finally find out why Maria hates her birthday.”

Stanford nodded and put away the screwdriver and time machine. “Got it. We just need to be quick.”

 

Outside of the Ramirez household, the kids peered over the hedge. They watched as kids ran around the decorated yard and laughed. A long table covered end-to-end with plates and silverware and lined by chairs dominated part of the yard. Maria sat down in a seat near the end, her bright eyes scanning the yard. Two girls on either side of her, eighteen perhaps, cooed over her and ruffled her hair.

“Aw, look at you, little lady!” Soos shambled up to her. “You deserve all the love you get. Hey! I even got a birthday cake with a princess on it.” He opened the cake box to reveal an orange cake with a girl in a dress on it. Maria cooed at it and, when her grandfather set it down, took the little princess and looked it over.

Stanford shook his head. “Why does Maria hate her birthday so much? This looks  _amazing!_ ”

Stanley nodded. “Does it ever.”

A kid sat at the front of the table.

Maria looked up from the figurine she had been playing with. “Oh, um, I’m sorry. But could you trade seats, _por favor?_ That is the Seat of Honor!”

The boy tipped his head. “Who’s that?”

“My dad!” Maria announced, her smile widening. “I have not seen him in a while. But he is coming today!” The doorbell rang. Maria wiped off her face and jumped out of her seat. “That must be him!” The twins followed her to the window, where Maria stood in front of the front door. She took a deep, shaky breath. She told something to herself so quickly in Spanish neither twin could understand it. She opened the door. Her brilliant, nervous grin died.

A mailman stood at the door. He looked over a postcard from New Orleans. “Postcard for… Maria!”

Maria gently took it from him. The mailman left. Maria stared at the face of the card. “NEW ORLEANS” popped out in white words from the background of the post card, which looked like a party with people clinking bottles of root beer in front of a casino. She flipped it over. Her look of devastation became more heartbreaking, if that was possible. Soos looked around the room and stopped a few feet away from Maria. Maria read it aloud. “Sorry, Champ. Couldn’t make it this year. Real busy again. See you next year for sure! -Dad.” Even after she’d read the last piece, Maria stared at it.

A boy roughly her age and look, though a bit stockier and darker haired, patted her shoulder. “Aw, don’t worry, cousin! He’ll be here next year!”

Maria nodded. “Yeah, Reggie.” She knelt in front of the side table by the door and took out a box. When she lifted the top, it revealed a pile of post cards all with the exact same words. The only difference was their state of origin. Maria, clutching the box, stood up. “I lay down now. You can party without me.” She trudged off to her room, leaving her cousin and grandfather behind.

“Oh, no! Maria!” Soos picked up a misshapen, wrapped bag. “What about your presents?” He pressed something on the top, causing the key-board-shaped present to yell.

Stanford and Stanley sat down outside, their backs to the window. Stanford sighed. “So that’s why she hates her birthday. It’s when she realized her dad isn’t coming back.”

Stanley stared at his lap, his eyebrows furrowed, and lips pursed. He did not speak. Janice sprayed Stanford in the face with a water gun and laughed. “Hehe! Dorks! Young Jan!”

Inside the house, Maria sat glumly on her bed. It was dark as the only light came from the sun through the window, though the sun was at the wrong angle to shed much light inside. Soos stood outside with a plate of multicolored, flower-shaped cookies. He glared in no direction in particular with an uncharacteristic amount of distain. “Her father is a dead-beat! If he shows his face here again, I’ll tear him apart myself!” He took a deep breath and walked into Maria’s room. The open door spilled light into the cluttered room. “Maria! I made you sugar cookies shaped like flowers.” He presented the plate to Maria.

“I don’t want cookies,” Maria mumbled. “I want to see Dad again.”

“And I’m sure he wants to see you again,” Soos comforted. “He’s just busy.”

“Busy in New Orleans,” the kid muttered.

“Aw, yes. …trust me. You will feel better someday.”

Stanford and Stanley watched the conversation before ducking down again. “This is awful!” Stanley complained, his voice hushed. “I don’t know if we can fix this, Ford!”

“We promised her a happy birthday,” Stanford agreed. “But how can we fix it now?”

“Th-this way!” Blendin announced.

The kids gasped and ran off further into the backyard so that they hid behind a tree.

The men walked over to where the kids had been hiding. Blendin looked about. “They’ve gotta be around here somewhere. I-I-I think I heard them!” His gaze snapped to a tree.

Lolph pointed his gun at the tree and cried, “Freeze!” His laser gun blasted apart the tree. Young Janice looked up at them with wide eyes. She dropped her water gun and ran off, crying. Lolph continued searching.

Blendin sat down on a bench. “Man, the sooner I defeat those kids in Globnar, the sooner I can win my time wish.”

Dundgren smiled. “Tell you what I’d do if I had a time wish. Retire early. Spend more time with the kids.”

“Naing Niang Niang Niang Niang, with the kids! Don’t you know a time wish can do literally anything? Any impossible problem solved–” Blendin snapped his fingers.”–just like that? I mean, imagine the possibilities.”

Stanford gasped. “Wait, Stanley, that’s it! The time wish! If we defeat Blendin in Globnar…”

“…then we can wish Maria’s dad came to her twelfth birthday!” Stanley agreed. “We’ll fix all of her birthdays!” Stanley snapped his fingers. “Just like that!”

Stanford’s smile faded. “Do you think we could win, though?”

Stanley nodded. “It’s our only chance. Besides, it’s for Maria.” He tipped his head to the open window. Maria glanced at the cookie tray and pushed them away. “She would do the same for us.”

Stanford nodded. The two got up and walked out from behind the tree, hands behind their heads. “We surrender!” Stanford announced.

“It’s them!” Blendin gasped.

“Freeze!” Dundgren pointed is laser gun at them.

Lolph took out his own gun. “Careful! They’re from the past. They might have powder muskets or slap bracelets!”

Stanford shook his head. “Look, no tricks this time.”

Stanley nodded. “We’re ready to challenge you.”

Blendin laughed. “YES! Let the Globnar begin! Prepare… for… GLOBNAAA–” Blendin’s shrill cry stopped. Although his chest and mouth still moved, no sound came out. He stopped and raised an eyebrow. A mute button appeared in front of his face.

Lolph, one finger on his wrist, smirked. “It turns out I can mute him.”

“I wish we’d known that earlier.” Dundgren sighed with a small smile.

Lolph turned to the kids. “Initializing!” He pressed another button. The entire group was gone in a burst of energy and a flash of light. The red screwdriver from the Space Shack fell to the ground.

 

_July 13 th, 207̃012._

They appeared in the center of the Globnar stadium with the center being empty. People in the stands roared and howled and pounded their fists in the air. Stanford and Stanley, eyes wide and flicking about, were on the big screen along with a very confident Blendin. All three of them wore handcuffs with the purple electric bands, now. The very ground shook beneath their feet. Stanford’s heart thundered. Quite suddenly, the idea of being a renegade, running from time law, wasn’t so unappealing.

The stands broke in one area. A giant circle in the ground vanished and a baby in a metal jumper floated up. An hourglass imprinted on his forehead. He glared about the stadium with eyes as large as Grunkle Dipper’s car. His shadow, even from so far away, blanketed the kids, Blendin, and the two officers. Two floating robots with rods floated on either side of him. The baby raised his arms. His voice boomed through the stadium like thunder in a quiet night. “SILENCE!”

The stadium fell quiet, as if the very air choked them into silence–all but one that was. One raucous fan still cheered. The baby glared at him. His pupils turned red and a red laser burst from them, frying the offending man in seconds.

“That’s one big baby,” Stanley breathed.

The baby continued, “Welcome, Globnar tributes! I have a very important nap to get to, so let’s make this quick. You each have a chance to settle your time-feud through gladiatorial combat.” He lowered his arms. Behind them, shelves full of glowing pink weapons appeared.

A new robot, this one carrying an hourglass shaped bottle filled with a substance that looked like the universe floated above him. “You have until Time Baby finishes this bottle of cosmic sand.”

Time Baby crossed his arms and turned his head. “No!”

“Come on.” The robot poked him with the bottle.

“Ow!”

“It’s good for you.”

“Wah!”

Blendin pointed to the kids. “Get ready, kids. When I get that time wish, you’ll wish you were never born! Or, you wish you will because  _I’ll_ wish you were never born!”

Stanford smiled. “Yeah? There’s two of us and one of you.”

“And we have hair!” Stanley boasted.

Blendin cackled and twirled a spear so that it pointed the spear at them. “And I have  _training._  What do you think I did all those years in prison?”

Stanford stared at the spear. “Uh oh.”

Time baby raised his arms. “Let the Globnar… BEGIN!”

Stanford’s, Stanley’s, and Blendin’s handcuffs fell off. A scoreboard appeared nearby. Instead of team names, it just had a picture of them with a score reading “0” beneath them. Blendin had one picture while Stanford and Stanley shared another.

Stanley got into the modified Taekwondo stance Grunkle Dipper had taught him. Stanford glanced at Stanley’s feet and copied him. Blendin screamed and raised his arms.  _Let the games begin,_  Stanford thought, a grim scowl on his face.

The “games” were relentless and brutal. Stanford and Stanley were in a team together, but they didn’t even add up to Blendin’s age, much less his skill.

In the first round, Blendin dueled Stanley on the clock with the sticks that had large, pink balled ends. Stanley was able to hold his ground surprisingly well. Stanford ran up behind Blendin and lifted the bar to hit him. Blendin spun around quicker than they expected. The bar hit Stanford’s weapon and Stanford’s chest and swatted him away like a fly. Stanford landed on Stanley, causing them both to drop their weapons and lose. Blendin’s score changed from “0” to “1”.

Throughout the series, the twins took turns taking the lead depending on their skills. Stanley drove the gravity-defying motorbike as they raced against Blendin on a narrow track. The twins did a wheelie to speed up and pass the finish line. The Stans’ score changed from “0” to “1”.

Another was when they played a game similar to chess. Stanford quickly took over  _that_  one. Their game was soon interrupted by a cyclock, which was like a cyclops but with a clock for a face, as it punched the game to smithereens with its large arm, and raised his smaller arm above him as he roared.

Soon enough, their scores tied at “244”. Yet they continued playing as the games went on and  _on._  Once, Blendin chased the kids as he ran in a giant wheel. Stanley and Blendin had a “time-dog” eating contest–which was with hotdogs but from the future. Stanley almost won, but ended up throwing up the foreign, future ingredients in the food. Another game involved running and, in Stanley’s case, fighting, cuckoo clock robots. They had a wheelbarrow race, where Stanford held up Stanley’s legs and a robot held up Blendin’s legs and they ran. Stanley and Blendin fought with spears on a tightrope while Stanford swam through a sea of clocks to flee a time-shark. They played the largest game of what was possibly Jenga they’d ever seen. Each block was longer than the kids were length wise. The last was when all three of them pushed the Cyclock through a large door in the wall. It’s three-fingered claws tore through the wall on its way in.

“Very good,” Time Baby’s voice boomed through the stadium. “You have escaped the Cyclock.” The three contestants turned to him. Stanford tried to lean on Stanley as nonchalantly as he could as his legs were ready to give out on him. The twins gulped heavy, shaking breaths. Bruises had started to form on their battered bodies. Stanford winced as he breathed too deeply. He might’ve bruised or, worse, cracked a rib. Stanley kept his left hand loose, as his wrist had been fractured punching a cuckoo clock.

“Yes!” Blendin hissed, standing tall and squared as if he’d done nothing but gone on a light stroll. “Blendin for the almost win!” Above them, the scoreboard was “764” to “763”, with Blendin being in the lead.

Time Baby chewed on his foot for a bit before lowering it so that he could speak. “There is only one final challenge for Globnar. An ancient game, thousands of years old, chosen for its exemplification of pure strategy:” Blendin, Stanley, and Stanford grimaced and lost any cockiness or hope. “The ancient art… of Laser Tag!” A whole maze spread out around them. Pink, translucent vests and laser guns appeared on them as well. At the very end, at the top of an incline, was a glowing orange orb holding the hourglass. “The one who touches the victory orb first will win!”

Stanley looked at his gun. “Laser tag? Seriously?”

Blendin smirked. “Oh, I know it doesn’t seem that challenging now, but just wait till they turn on that fog machine. You’ll be done for! You just wait until ya-” Blendin cut himself off as Stanford, completely unphased, shot him multiple times in the chest with the laser. Each time the laser hit him, the vest Exclaimed “HIT!”

“Aw, man,” Blendin sighed, his cocky demeanor turning to resignation.

“Stanley! Grab the orb!” Stanford yelled.

“Got it!” Stanley ran to the top of the incline and bounced on the orange ball. As soon as he touched it, everything went white.

Time Baby finished off the cosmic sand. “It is FINISHED!” he announced. Another robot patted his back. Time Baby burped. The entire stadium roared their approval and excitement. Stanley and Stanford’s score shot up to “999”, glowed green, and buzzed.

“No!” Blendin cried and put his hands to his head. “No, no, no,  _NO!”_

Stanley and Stanford high-sixed. “YES!”

Time Baby descended a few feet. Dundgren and Lolph appeared on either side of Blendin, who was still panicking.

“You have made victory in Globnar. Before I give you your time wish, tell us: what fate have you decided for the loser?”

“Oh jeez,” Blendin whimpered.

Stanley, caught up in the moment, threw his arms into the air and screamed, “DEATH!” Blendin gasped.

“Stanley!” Stanford glared at his brother.

Stanley lowered his arms. “Uh, sorry. Got caught up in the moment.”

Stanford glanced at Blendin and turned his back to him Stanley followed suit. “So, Blendin did try to wish us out of existence. However, it was our fault for ruining his life.”

Stanley nodded. “Yeah, he’s too sad to be a real  _bad guy_  anyway.”

Stanford took a deep breath. “Okay. If we treat him right in the present, he’ll be better in the future.” Stanley gave him a firm nod. The twins turned back to Time Baby. Stanford announced, “Okay. Now, as long as you keep an eye on him, we’d like to set Blendin free and restore his position at the Time Anomaly Correction Unit.”

“And give him good hair!” Stanley piped up.

“So be it,” Time Baby stated and waved a glowing hand at Blendin.

Blendin’s hand cuffs fell off. “Wh-what? You’d do that for me?” A puff of hair shaped like a mustache appeared on his head. Blendin squeaked, “I got my job back!” He looked at Lolph. “I feel like hugging someone!”

Lolph stared at him. “I can kill you in eight different ways.”

“Yes, sir.” Blendin stood up straight and faced forward.

Time Baby rubbed his face. “Now, children.” The hourglass-shaped thing on Time Baby’s forehead glowed orange. A time wish floated between Stanley and Stanford. “What is it that you want for your time wish?”

Stanford squared his shoulders and faced Time Baby. He snapped a glare at his kleptomaniac brother who stared at the pretty gold object. Stanley stood up straight, too. “Thank you, but it’s not for us,” Stanford confessed.

“Not for you?” Time Baby echoed, confusion falling over his squishy features. “Then who? Who is worthy to receive such power?”

 

_July 13 th, 2012._

Maria stood in the laser tag arena. “Stanford? Stanley?” Her voice was much weaker now. She sighed and hung her head. “Who do I kid? I am not up for this.” She dragged her feet to the exit. Before she left, she took out a quarter. “Heads I stay. Tails I go home.” She flipped a coin into the air. Suddenly, everything around her stopped. Maria tipped her head at the coin, which now floated in mid-air. “This is… unconventional?”

Stanford and Stanley appeared behind him. “Maria!” they cried.

Maria, completely calm, turned around. “Kids?”

“We’re so sorry for leaving you,” Stanford gasped as they ran up to her. Oh, his legs felt weak. “We got caught up in this time travel nonsense–”

Stanley nodded and shut one eye. “And there was a time cyclops–”

“And don’t forget about the-” Stanford started and looked at Stanley.

Stanley chuckled and said at the same time as his brother, “-time race!”

Stanley turned back to Maria. “But the point is, Maria, we think we know how to fix your birthday.”

Maria stared at them. “What? Really?” She put a hand to her eyes and looked at them as if seeing them in a new light. “You two did all of that… for me?”

“And that’s not all!” Blendin announced and put a hand to his wrist. The Time Wish floated above them, casting its orange glow on them all. “The power to alter time paradox free in any way you choose.”

Stanley nodded. “We thought the only thing that can make you happy is meeting your dad.”

“But the choice is yours,” Stanford admitted.

“You mean that, by touching this thing, I can see my dad? And you boys battled through time and space just to get this for me?” She hesitated and took out the postcard from New Orleans given to her ten years ago. She looked down at the written message and then at the twins who beamed at her.

“What are you waitin’ for, man?” Stanley chuckled. “Go ahead!”

Maria smiled. “Alright.” She touched her hand to the orb. The orb crackled and then flashed a brilliant gold. The four shielded their eyes against the glow. When they opened them, they found that Stanley and Stanford’s wounds had vanished, and their clothes were repaired. Stanford didn’t feel like passing out anymore!

“What the-?” Stanford started.

“Huh?” Stanley looked over himself.

“There!” Maria announced. “I cleaned you two up!”

Stanley looked up at Maria. “But what about meetin’ your dad?”

Maria shrugged. “Well, birthdays are about spending time with the people that love you. And you know what? My dad didn’t care about me. He wouldn’t visit me once, let alone fight monsters through space and time. But you two did, to make me happy.” She sighed. “I have been ridiculous this entire time. Whoever my dad was, he can take a hike.” She tore the post card in half and threw it in the garbage bin. “I know who my family is. It is you kids.” She didn’t even need to speak further for the twins to hug her. “Thank you. For giving me the best birthday.”

“Are you kidding me?! Do you have any idea what you’ve just wasted?! Do you know how many have died to get the time wish; the wars that were started?!” Blendin’s cracking voice reached a new pitch.

Maria chuckled and stood up straight, allowing the twins to let go. She patted her side, which now had a toolbelt around it. “That’s not all. I wished for this toolbelt with tools that won’t ever break.”

Blendin shrugged. “I mean, I guess.”

Maria looked between them. “There’s still ten minutes before Laser Tag closes. Do you want to play, _chicos?_ ”

“Yeah!” Stanley agreed. The three of them, laughing, ran into the laser tag zone.

 

_July 13 th, 2002._

Little Maria walked into her backyard, her party hat still on her head. “Was there an explosion?” She nearly stepped on a scarlet screwdriver just outside of the window. “Huh? What’s this? _Space Shack_?” She read aloud the words on a blue label.

 

Maria, the screwdriver still clutched in her hand, walked over to the Space Shack. She’d nearly gotten there when a teen boy wearing a gray shirt with a question mark on it backed out of the house.

“I’m sorry, but you’ve got to be the worst mechanic I’ve ever met and if I’ve told you twice, I’ve told you a hundred times not to go taking stuff apart when it’s still in the gift shop, especially when you can’t repair it correctly! You no longer work here, understand?” Mr. Pines huffed in a temper. The boy turned and ran off.

Maria walked up to the old man and prompted, “ _Señor?_ ”

“Oh! Who are you, kiddo?” Mr. Pines smiled and looked down at her.

Encouraged, Maria held up a screwdriver. “I believe this belongs to you.”

“Why it sure is! Thank you! Say, do you know how to fix a golf cart?”

“I think my _Abuelo_ taught me. I mean–?”

“Good! Take a crack at it! You’re hired.” Mr. Pines waved his hand and approached a group of tourists. “Step right up, ladies and gentlemen, step right up!”

Maria watched her go. A smile adorned her features. She took a deep breath and ran off to find the broken golf cart.

 

BKQM VVIXITKRO KW INAIAW I ISWF MLGE!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very special day, it seems! I wasn’t kidding about Ford having trust issues, but I guess he’s not the only one. Good thing Maria’s friends with them, though. Never enough love in her life! Even if she didn’t have much dialogue in the canon show, she’s still loved. Really, she’s an A+ grandma, and a great friend/staff member. Everyone has their secrets but thankfully hers wasn’t catastrophic, am I right?
> 
>  
> 
> 3: _Jnivfmv Yea Xiza Yxuib Vliv Lm Nsav evf Wcel Xqamt Aiu Aiuxmf._


	8. Northwest Mansion Mystery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s time for the **a** nnual party the Northwests throw for the people of Gravity Falls! Lights, food, and da **n** cing, it’s a perfect place for people to have fun. Unless, of course, said people’s hearts are too cold…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find it on dA:

Intense lightning arched between the rumbling storm clouds over Gravity Falls. Thunder boomed, and rain lashed the windows and hissed over stone and metal. Within the sanctity of the multistory, multimillion dollar mansion, people buzzed about. Pacifica, Tiffany, and Preston gathered in the dining room, where servants prepared the room for a feast. Preston held a rolled-up newspaper, casting a dark look around the room. As one servant put down a fork, Preston glanced at his moms before smacking him on the head. “Put the fork at an angle!” Preston demanded. “We’re not _animals!_ ” The servant quietly fixed his mistake.

Surveying the papers she held, Pacifica stood to the side with Tiffany. Tiffany grinned. “Oh, yes. A good diversity for this year’s guest list.”

Pacifica turned to Tiffany. “Did you remember to ask Mrs. Chiu about the dress we were going to find her?”

“Rrrr…” Preston groaned audibly. “Do we have to invite that old kook?”

Expecting nothing less, Pacifica sighed. “Preston, she’s not an old kook. It would do you well to show some respect.”

“Seriously, Mom?” Preston huffed. “We’re Northwests! One of the most valuable names in the United States! What do we have to show for it? A prettied up ball for a bunch of riff-raff!”

Then, Pacifica frowned. “Preston, you are a Northwest. But being rich doesn’t mean you get to bully people. We are all people, no matter how much money we have.”

“Oh whatever,” Preston grumbled and stalked off. “Dad wouldn’t have let everyone step on us like that.”

“Now, _Preston!_ You stop this instant!” Pacifica called after him. Preston turned around, glaring up into her eyes with a challenge. “You are thirteen years old, live in a nice house with breakfast every morning and dinner every evening, and you have friends and family that love you. Don’t you dare bring your father into this.”

“Really? He would’ve made the Northwest name great again!”

Entirely losing her cold calm, Pacifica stated, “ _He_ –ugh.” Pacifica sighed and, just like that, the fight was gone from her. Again. Predictably. “Preston, your father didn’t care about anything but his own greed. There’s more to you than your name and what we have.”

At this, Tiffany stated, “You don’t have to help preparation, Preston.” The boy turned around and stalked out of the room without another word. Tiffany turned her gaze to her wife.

Laying her head on Tiffany’s shoulder, Pacifica looked at the door. “He’s so much like him, Tiff,” Pacifica muttered. “This was a mistake. I should’ve never told him.”

“Look, he’d have found out, anyway, and been twice as mad. He’s a teenage boy. Once he realizes that he’s much more than he thinks he is, and he quits with the _normal teenage aggression_ , things will get better. He’s a good kid. Just give him time.”

Yet, as Preston walked down the hallway, alone, he fished a trinket out of his pocket. The little gold thing flashed in the light. A grin spread across his features. “Well, Mother, if you won’t get rid of this riff-raff, I will.” He stopped and looked up at a grand painting of his great-great grandfather and great-great-grandmother hanging on the wall. “Dad, I will make you proud. I will make the Northwest name feared and awed.”

 

Righteous lightning flashed, and thunder snarled over the Space Shack. Pots, pans, and buckets were set up around the house to catch leaking water. Stanford lounged on the couch, a soggy lollipop stick, which had long since lost its flavor and was now unraveling, stuck in his mouth. Right then, the TV started, _“You asked for it, you got it! An entire 48-hour marathon of Ghost Harassers on the ‘Used to Be About History Channel’!”_

“Eh, I guess,” Stanford shrugged.

Fairly quickly, Grunkle Dipper’s voice came in from another room. “Stanford! Did you change into that suit I gave you?”

“Oh.” Looking down at his plain shirt and jeans, Stanford replied, “Um… no?”

Right around the corner, Grunkle Dipper popped out from the hallway. “Stanford! We have a party to get ready for.”

Muttering to himself the incredulity of the event to himself for the umpteenth time, Stanford groaned, “What’s so important about that party?”

Exasperated, Grunkle Dipper stated, “Really? It’s a once-a-year soirée for all the common people of Gravity Falls to meet in the Northwest mansion and eat fancy dessert. Since it’s storming so badly, I’m thinking of leaving early.”

Deeply echoing footsteps loud, Stanley ran out of the stairs just then, well dressed in his light pink suit with a frilled collar. “Ford, come on! I heard rich people are coming this year! Imagine it: rich food, richer girls!”

“Oh, I know. We’ll also be meeting Preston there.” Stanford pointed out flatly, “If you haven’t forgotten, Preston’s the worst.” Someone knocked on the door. He sighed and pushed himself to his feet. “And that’s not just jealousy talking. I’d say that to his face.” Stanford opened the door and raised an eyebrow.

Outside, damp from the spray that made it past his umbrella, was Preston. “Stanford.”

Stanford stated, “You’re the worst.” He shut the door in his face.

Grunkle Dipper gasped.

Another knock came to the door. Stanford sighed and opened the front door. Preston glared at him. He took a deep breath and put on a very forced smile. “So, Stanford. Pines. My mother is throwing a soirée for the whole town. My mom wanted to make sure you guys were coming. Since she thinks we’re friends.” The last words barely escaped through clenched teeth. “I wanted to offer you and your family a ride to the mansion.”

Stanford gave him a flat look. “Why should I trust you? All you’ve _ever_ done is lie and humiliate us. You nearly got us killed _golfing!_ ”

“It was your fault!” Preston was quick to counter. He shut his eyes and nodded. “But, yeah, yeah, I know. Well, still. You’ll need to Look presentable.” He dug through his bag. “And… here. For you, Stanford.” He pulled out a golden pin with a treasure chest on it.

Stanford took the object from him. “A gold pin?”

Stanley was summoned.

“Oh, what is it?” Stanley plucked it out of Stanford’s hand and looked it over.

Preston rolled his eyes. “It’s a treasure chest, dummy. I thought you liked pirates or whatever. That’s close enough. Actually, I think that goes well with your suit, Stanley. Keep it or whatever. Also, it’s real gold. Just so you don’t pawn it off for fifty cents or something.”

Stanley pinned the treasure chest to his chest, just above his heart. “Cool!”

“Stanley!” Stanford shut the door. “Why are you wearing that? It could be cursed or something! Preston wouldn’t just be _nice_ to you!”

“His mom made him give it to me. She’s good.” Stanley rolled his eyes. “Now come on! Go get dressed! I want to see a chocolate fountain!”

 

A grand limo drove through the designated driveway. It was flanked on both sides by guards, rails, and masses of people behind the rails. Rain tapped the glass and exterior of the car. The gate opened as a butler pulled the “MAIN GATE” lever by the front doors. Two servants opened the front door for Preston and those who followed.

“Welcome to the Northwest Manor, dorks. Try not to touch anything,” Preston ordered with a short wave of his hand. Stanley and Stanford gasped words of wonder. A cider fountain stood to one side. An ice statue of Preston was in another. A man carried a live, male peacock past them. A mosasaur skeleton hung above the main hall. Stanford looked up at it. He struggled to put down the feeling of awe. _They got a mosasaur skeleton?_

Stanley laughed as they walked inside. “They weren’t kidding!”

Grunkle Dipper nodded. “I told you: everything’s so _fancy!_ ”

Stanley laughed. “Aw, sweet! Is that the chocolate fountain?!” He ran off. Grunkle Dipper followed his great nephew.

“Aaaand their gone.” Stanford stuck his hands in his own blue suit. He resisted the temptation to play with his curly, freshly done hair. _Ugh._ Although his jacket and jeans had been enough in his eyes, Grunkle Dipper had been oddly persistent. It got down to _“You take a shower and wear this outfit, or I hose you and then put this on you.”_ Stanford opted for the first option.

Stanford wandered around the place, looking at the people and scenery. He recognized quite a few people from town. Although dressed nicely, none of them had the prim and proper elegance of the rich people who would arrive soon. Aaaand there they were. Susan, in a neat and tidy purple dress, and Ivan, dressed up with his short, patchy hair still gleaming, stood by Fiddleford’s side. The boy had cleaned up nicely and, though he’d taken a depressive bow of his head, he smiled and laughed as Susan elbowed him. Susan’s eyes found Stanford’s and, for a fleeting second, she glared at him with a wide, cold smile. Stanford glowered at her and then stalked off to find his brother. How dare Susan look at him like that. It wasn’t his fault Fiddleford was a complete traitor! Speaking of which, how dare that traitor come here nice and neat and good looking and–

Stanford shook his head and looked at Preston. The boy was next to his two mothers. A red fox with a collar stood by Preston’s hip. Stanford started to look to his brother, but hesitated. Preston glowered at everyone there. But, as his gaze fell on Stanley, he lost it and concentrated on him. Though his smiled, it wasn’t the innocent or happy one of a friend glad to have another. It was much more sinister than that.

Stanford glared at him before walking to his brother.

“Hey, Grunkle Dipper!” Stanley took two sticks. When Grunkle Dipper turned to look at him, Stanley had stuck the sticks in his mouth and growled like a walrus. Grunkle Dipper rolled his eyes with a short smile. Stanley saw Stanford and took the sticks out of his mouth. “Hey, Ford!”

Stanley grabbed a few snacks for them and launched into a story he heard online. Another kid heard them and soon two more people had joined them. After a while, Stanley was telling stories about how they hunted monsters to a crowd of ten other kids of their age range.

Stanley laughed. “A-and then, Fiddleford burst out of the thing’s stomach and yelled ‘Ah ate my way out of a candy monster!’” He mimicked Fiddleford’s voice quite well. The kids gasped and a few chuckled. Stanford smiled, but the story didn’t settle well with him. He really shouldn’t miss Fiddleford, after what he did. He looked at the party again. Fiddleford was teaching Ivan how to dance. Darn him. “Yep. Then the candy monster cried about wanting to be liked and died.” Suddenly, he blinked. “Yo, Ford. Take over story time for me, wouldja?”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’. I’m goin’ to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” Stanley smiled and walked off.

Stanford watched him go.

*          *          *          *          *

The headache Stanley had been putting down for the last half-hour was getting worse. Stanley winced as every noise around him was amplified and just made the pain in his head worse. Idly, he played with the pin on his chest. Stanley looked around the people who surrounded him. An anger so fierce overtook Stanley so suddenly he stopped and gasped. He shook his head, winced, and continued walking.

Yet, as he walked, the ability to concentrate was getting harder and harder. One of his shoes grew wet as he stepped in a yet-to-be-cleaned puddle of apple cider. He saw the cause of the mess next to him: Tyler Cutebiker, a kid that liked to follow around potential fights and upload them to YouTube. He filmed quite a few of the public displays. That same anger he felt before flared up in him.

“Hey! What the heck is wrong with you?” Stanley snapped, the words coming out before his mind thought of them.

Tyler, taken aback, held up a hand. “Hey, wow. Dude, it was an accident. _You_ were the one who wasn’t watching where you were going.”

Stanley kept walking and took a few deep breaths. What was wrong with him? Normally, a kid like that would deserve a good reciprocation, but it wasn’t anything to get _that_ heated over. What was wrong with him?

The thought of calling Stanford back caused him to stop. Ford was smart, he knew everything. He’d know why Stanley was feeling weird. If he didn’t know, the scrapbook he kept with him at all times would. Then again, Stanford would probably just tell him he was being moody or something. Stanley rolled his eyes and continued walking.

It wasn’t long before he arrived at a rather spacious bathroom. It was a one-person bathroom, so he was alone.

Stanley took a deep breath and looked at himself in the mirror. “Okay, Stanley. What’s wrong with you?”

_“Freeze… frost…”_

Stanley jumped as the words echoed in his head. He didn’t recognize the feminine voice that spoke them. He looked around. “Hey? Anyone here? I knocked first!” There was no answer. He grumbled and turned back to the mirror. He sucked in his breath. His reflection’s eyes were a bright, deadly teal.

*          *          *          *          *

Stanford watched Preston. The kids that had gathered for Stanley’s stories were no longer there. Preston’s parents were on the floor mingling with people. Preston, however, wasn’t. He stood at the edge, watching the direction in which Stanley left. Finally, he turned and walked into one of the halls.

Stanford left without a word.

Preston walked quietly through the Labyrinth of hallways, constantly looking over his shoulder. But, the farther away he got, the more relaxed he became. He stopped before a painting of one of his ancestors, a close one by how similar they looked to one another. “Well, stage one is complete.”

“Stage one of _what?_ ”

Preston jumped and spun around. “Wh-what? Stanford? What are–ahem. What are you doing here?” He straightened up and glared at the boy.

Stanford stopped just in front of Preston, hands behind his back. “Stage one of what, Preston? I saw you looking at my brother. What did you do to him?”

Preston’s look of anger subsided into a smug smirk. “Oh, that? Your brother put on that pin, then?” He chuckled to himself. “He was always the dumb one. I knew you wouldn’t put it on.”

Stanford bristled. “What did you do to him, Preston?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Preston stated. “Stanley did. He put on the pin. You’ll see soon enough, Stanford. Maybe you should rejoin your friends at the party.”

“Not until you tell me what that cursed pin is going to do to Stanley!” Stanford hissed.

Preston held up one hand. “Oh, it wouldn’t have done anything if he just kept it. But by opening it, he triggered an ancient spell cast by a rather prestigious sea-faring nobleman who wasn’t well known for his temper.”

“Are you stupid?! Whatever that ghost does to those people out there, it will do to you!”

Preston grinned. “I don’t think so. He was nobleman that attacked peasants. I am not a peasant. Now, if you excuse me, I have some commoners to drive out.” With that, he walked back to the main room.

“Hey!” Stanford started after him, and then yelped. Hunter the Fox bit down on Stanford’s ankle, tripping him. Stanford shook off the fox but, when he got up, Preston was already down the hall. Stanford hissed and ran after him.

When Stanford reached the end of the hall, Preston wasn’t there. The party was going on as normal. Grunkle Dipper talked with Pacifica. Stanley was nowhere to be seen. “Stanley, Stanley… where are you…” Stanford mumbled and then sucked in his breath. “The bathroom!” He turned and rushed back into the party. “Come on… come on… bathroom, bathroom, bathroom… ah!” He stopped in front of a shut door farther down the hall. He started to knock but hesitated.

“Wh… what do y-you want? What are you?” Stanley’s voice, brittle as his bravery wavered, came from inside.

…

“No! Whatever you are I won’t do it! Get back here and face me like a man! Come on!”

“Yep, that’s Stanley.” Stanford knocked on the door. “Stanley? Can you hear me?”

“Ford? Uh, I’ll be out in a little bit.”

“Preston cursed you! The pin is haunted by some sort of rich pirate ghost that’s going to try and kill everyone!”

The door opened. “Really? Seriously?! Preston!” Stanley hissed, glowering into the crowd. His eyes flashed a deadly teal. “I’ll kill him!”

“Wait, Stanley!” Stanford grabbed is brother by the shoulders and turned so that he looked into his eyes. “Calm down! By what Preston has told me, that creature must be a spirit that feeds off high emotional energy–like anger. Calm down and take off that pin!”

Stanley glared at Stanford. Then, he shut his eyes and sighed. When he opened them, they were a dark brown. He held up the pin. Before he could unpin it from his shirt, he hesitated.

“Uh… Stanley? Stanley, can you hear me?”

…

Stanford took his brother’s wrist. “Stanley! Can you hear me? Snap out of it!” He took the pin in his hands and started to unclasp it.

Quick as a viper, Stanley hissed and shoved him. “Get off! That’s mine!”

Stanford fell back and hit the floor with a yelp. He winced and set a hand on his head. His chest was suddenly very cold as if Stanley had just hit him with a snowball. “Ooooh, ow, ow, ow.” He looked up at his brother. Stanley glared down at him, teal eyes narrowed. “Stanley? Stanley, we have to get that thing off you!”

Stanley shifted the pin so it wasn’t on the verge of falling off. “It’s mine, no one else’s!” He hissed again, baring his overly sharp teeth.

“Oh no.” Stanford scrambled to his feet and fled down the hall. When he looked back, Stanley wasn’t paying attention to him. He looked to the party. “Oh, no. Preston, I’m going to kill you!” Stanford snarled to himself before stopping and yelling, “Stanley!”

His possessed brother turned to look at him.

“Get over here!”

Stanley went back to ignoring him.

“Ugh! Okay, think. Why did he attack you?” Stanford muttered to himself. “Come on, come on, come on! You confronted him and then he froze and you–that’s it!” He looked around and grabbed the nearest thing he could–a rather expensive, fancy pot laced with gold–and held it up. “Ghost!”

Stanley whipped around. He started to hiss, but then he saw what Stanford was holding. For a moment, Stanley stared at the vase. Then, he growled and ran after Stanford. The air dropped in temperature. Stanford spun around and, clutching the vase close to his chest, darted down the tangled corridors.

Eventually, Stanford ducked into a room just around a corner. Putting a hand to his mouth to keep from making too much noise, he listened to his possessed brother’s shoes patter off down the hall. After Stanford regained his breath, he opened the door a crack to look down the hall. Nothing. Good.

He slipped out of the small room and looked around. He couldn’t hear the party from all the way over here, which was good. The floor was rather chilly. The tile was slick and the rug crunched underfoot. Stanford set down the vase, took out the scrapbook, and started flipping through it. “Come on, come on, come on, ghosts, ghosts, gh–there! Okay, I need a silver mirror.” He observed the page over a Category Four. This was definitely _not_ a Category Four, but it was the only weakness listed.

Stanford looked both ways before slipping the scrapbook in his suit, grabbing the vase, and creeping down the hall.

 

The spirit stopped. The frustrating boy’s scent went cold long ago. Not only that, but so did the other humans’! He roared in frustration and spun around. That trickster! He’d tear him apart hims–oh! He grabbed a particularly nice looking vase from a pedestal nearby. Frost from his fingers spread over the gold and iron-accented thing. His nails, once rounded and short, grew into long, snow-white talons.

The spirit clutched the vase close to his chest and looked around. He needed more!

 

Stanford, huffing, ended up back in the main room where the party was still in full swing. The hall still had a definite chill And the mirror in the bathroom was fogged. He groaned in frustration. Why did their mansion have to be so big? What was the point?! He needed to find a silver mirror and fast. So, he turned around and ran down the hallway again, finding a warmer path he had not taken.

He hadn’t gone far before running into Preston again.

The two huffed and stumbled back as they’d run into each other. “Urg! Watch it!” Preston hissed, a hand on his head. “Stanford? What are you doing with my stuff?”

“Trying to find a way to defeat this ghost!” Stanford reciprocated. “What are _you_ doing here? I thought you were enjoying the party.” He rolled his eyes.

“Well, I don’t need to tell you everything.” He brushed off his shirt.

“Preston, what’s this ghost? Why is he attacking? Is there something that was unresolved in life or what?” Stanford pressed.

Preston crossed his arms. “How should I know?”

“You got the pin!”

“Well, yeah, but it’s not like I asked about _everything_ ,” Preston huffed.

Stanford grabbed him by the front of the shirt. “Either you help me cure my brother, or I let you get eaten by the ghost!”

“He wouldn’t eat me! I told you that!” Preston’s voice wavered at the end.

Stanford’s snarl faded. “You don’t even know what you unleashed, do you?”

“I was lied to, okay?” Preston shoved Stanford away and straightened out his jacket. “That’s not the spirit of a pirate, this is.” Preston fished a necklace out of his pocket with a ship pendant. He shoved it back in his pocket. “It’s fake, anyway. I don’t know what I gave Stanley. But he’s probably being possessed by a ghost. You know how to defeat ghosts! You’re a monster hunter, right?”

“Well of course,” Stanford scoffed. “I was just in the middle of–wait. Hey, where can I find a silver mirror?”

“Silver mirror? We have plenty of those. Why? You’re going to make him look at his reflection?”

“No, I’ll trap the spirit in the silver mirror,” Stanford explained. “Now where is it?!”

“I dunno, there’s probably one in my moms’ room or something. How should I know? I’m not in charge of their thi-ings!” Preston yelped as Stanford grabbed him by the wrist and ran down the hall.

“Lead me!”

“Fine! Let go!” Preston wrenched his hand out of Stanford’s grip and ran ahead of him. Then, the air grew cold.

Preston halted, causing Stanford to run into him. Around the corner and down the hall was Stanley, a vase, a few pieces of jewelry, and a bust of some famous person in his hands. His nails had turned into claws and his eyes were a sharp teal. He looked around and sniffed, as if attempting to sniff out more luxury items.

Preston hissed, “What the heck is he doing?!”

“Shh! And I don’t know!” Stanford hissed back, peering out from behind the hall.

Stanley stopped, his attention snapping to the boys. He grinned and hissed in an oddly feminine voice, “I’ve found you!”

Preston sprinted down another hall. Stanford followed, his nose stuck in the scrapbook. The possessed boy ran behind them, cackling and clutching his gains.

“Through the garden!” Preston ordered. “Watch out for peacocks. They cost more than your car!”

Stanford didn’t comment. Instead, he cut through a muddy path in the courtyard with Preston to reach another open door. He looked up and gasped. “Look! There’s a silver mirror right there!” Ahead of them, in a fancy room at the end of the hall, a large silver mirror hung. Intricate white designs covered the room along with pearly white and silver furniture.

But, before they could get there, Preston slipped on the icy floor. He grabbed Stanford’s arm to attempt to right himself, but ended up causing them both to fall. The two tumbled through a painting into another room. The ghost raced past them and into the opposite direction, cackling all the while.

Preston let go and sat back. Stanford sat up and rubbed his head. “Where are we?”

Preston stared at the dusty, tarp-covered-objects filled room. “I don’t know.”

“Hopefully the ghost doesn’t either,” Stanford remarked and stood up. Preston grunted and got to his feet. The sheet behind Preston shuttered and contorted to reveal a head and two large hands reach for him. “Watch out!”

Preston spun around, screamed, and ran. He knocked over a box full of silver table objects. The sheet fell, and Stanley hopped over the fallen furniture and raced after him. “Your fate is sealed!”

Stanford nearly tripped over the box in his pursuit. He looked down and gasped. “A silver mirror!”

In the far side of the room, Preston tripped over a rug and landed flat on his face. He turned around and looked up as Stanley stood before him. He’d shifted his things so that one hand was free and holding a rather intricate looking ax. Scales ran down the boy’s skin instead of hair, now. He raised his ax. “Prepare to die, human!” he roared and brought the ax down.

Stanford jumped in front of the petrified rich kid and held out the mirror.

Preston and Stanford were thrown out the window and, coiled up in a red curtain, tumbled down a hill. The red curtain got caught and let them both loose. The kids rolled to a stop in the garden, shiny objects scattered around them. An ax sunk into the mud nearby. Stanford clutched the silver mirror like a lifeline. Both kids sat up. Preston looked at him. “Did you get him?”

Stanford raised the Mirror. Within, the spirit shrieked and roared. It was no longer Stanley. Instead, it was a light blue dragon with haunting teal eyes with claws and spikes whiter than snow. She shrieked and pounded the inside of the mirror. “NO! FREE ME!”

Stanford whooped and jumped up. “Category Ten, in the bag!”

Preston stood up and brushed himself off. “Yes, well. We better do something about it. Can you kill it?”

“No! I don’t know where Stanley is.” Stanford looked at the mirror, where the dragon was still shrieking at them. “He could be trapped in here, too, or…”

“Over here?” Preston prompted and waved his hand.

Stanley lay half-hidden in the red rug, eyes shut and chest gently expanding and contracting in a deep sleep.

“Stanley!” Stanford knelt beside his brother. He no longer had claws or scales. He was just a regular boy. Yet, when Stanford touched his arm, he recoiled. “He’s cold as ice! We have to do something.”

“Banish the ghost,” Preston suggested. “Then it’ll leave him, maybe?”

“Yeah. Okay. Come on, let’s get him away from here.”

 

Outside, the rain had stopped, though the frothing, thundering clouds stayed overhead. Stanford knelt by a rather large tree stump with the silver mirror on it. The silver mirror, next to an empty vial, was propped up by a stick. Tall, burning candles lined around it. Preston sat nearby, Stanley was leaning on him, still dead asleep. Stanford propped open the scrapbook with one hand, held up his other hand and chanted, “Exodus demonus, spookus scarus, aintafraidus nogustus–”

“Stanford, Stanford!” The ghost called, her paws pressed against the glass. Stanford hesitated and looked down. The dragoness pressed herself against the glass. “Please let me go! I’ll let go of your brother!”

“You will?” Stanford lowered the scrapbook.

“Yes!” the dragoness hissed, her tail whipping back and forth. “I no longer need your brother!”

“Stanford, the thing’s lying to you,” Preston pointed out.

The dragon spat. “I’m a dragon _ess_ foolish brat!”

Stanford rolled his eyes. “I’m not trusting you, ghost.”

The dragoness’ feature’s softened. “Very well, clever child.” She sighed and looked away so that most of her glimmering body was cloaked in shadow. “Then… before you banish my soul, may these tired, tortured eyes gaze upon the wild one last time?” She turned her head so her bright teal eyes stared at him out of the shadow.

Stanford nodded and took the mirror. “Okay.” He held it up so that the mirror faced the trees.

The ghost cackled and shrieked. She pounded on the glass, her laugh heightening in pitch and volume when she heard Stanford’s scream of pain as the cold burned him. The frosted silver mirror fell from his hand and shattered upon one of the roots of the tree stump. Smoke unfurled from the shattered object. Moisture around them turned to ice. The smoke, in the rough shape of a dragon, swooped down into the pin.

Stanley’s body glowed and then changed shape into the blue dragon. Her wings spread wide and, with a shriek of victory, she launched herself off the ground and to the treasure-filled mansion. Preston and Stanford were flattened to the freezing ground by the force of it and the candles went out. Light dribbling rain that had started to fall again turned to snow around them.

“Stanley!” Stanford cried and hopped to his feet.

 

Grunkle Dipper chatted avidly with Mrs. Chiu. “So, I was talking with Soos, and apparently–huh? Did you hear that?”

The two broke off their conversation and looked around. The party stopped as the mansion shuttered again. The air lowered in temperature. Grunkle Dipper looked down. The tile of the floor was starting to frost. “Uh…” Somewhere nearby, Tyler took out his video camera. “I… have a bad feeling about this. Kids?”

Then, the doors burst open. The largest creature he’d ever seen slithered through the doors and shrieked, gargantuan wings spread wide and head tipped back. A great breath of cold air completely froze the nearest chandelier. The chain grew so cold it turned brittle. Screams erupted from the crowd as people scattered. The dragoness took a deep breath and blew icy air over the crowd. Everyone touched by the chilly air turned into solid blocks of ice.

Grunkle Dipper looked around. “Kids?!”

 

Stanford threw open the front doors, gasping and wheezing and coughing as water dribbled down his face and into his throat. Light was smothered in the downpour so that the only light outside came from the violent flashes of electricity. He looked around, mouth agape in astonishment and horror as he gazed upon the scene before him. The dragoness froze another group of people and then bit the chain holding up a chandelier. The brittle metal shattered. She turned her head and threw it into a growing pile of frozen shiny objects.

“Mine!” she hissed in glee, snatching a person by the back of their neck. After shaking the person off the necklace and then freezing them, she threw it onto her pile. As she turned, he saw the glint of the pin frozen to her chest. If he could get close enough…

“That’s it! Preston, we need to–Preston?” The boy was not behind him. “Erg! Where is he?” He looked around. Down the hall, just past the torn up carpet, was a light. A light flickered on and off within.

Stanford raced into the hallway, huffing. He found him huddled up against a fallen painting. His eyes shut, and he mindlessly flicked a flashlight on and off. Stanford crept up to his side. “Preston?”

Preston jumped and looked up. “Huh? Oh. It’s you.” He lowered his gaze. “Come back to gloat?”

“No, I need your help. What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Help? I’m no help.” Preston grumbled. “Look at what I did, Stanford! I set a dragon loose in my mansion to drive everyone out. I didn’t mean to actually freeze people! _He_ , the pirate, was supposed to scare people away! Now she’s frozen everyone.” He pointed the flashlight up. Pacifica and Tiffany stood in the hallway. Tiffany was frozen with a look of horror and Pacifica had her arms around her, trying to drag her away. Both of them and the ground beneath were frozen. “Including them.” He dropped the flashlight.

Stanford looked at the frozen scene. Preston was a jerk, but… the image of his own parents, frozen in positions of fear and desperation, trying to drag the other away despite their partner’s frozen state rather than save themselves, came to mind. “Why’d you do it?”

“I was just trying to scare people away,” Preston mumbled. “I–I thought… I don’t know what I was thinking. Maybe trying to impress father, make our name more respected and feared like his.”

“Your father?” Stanford prompted. “I thought you had–”

“Yeah, duh.” Preston looked up at him. “You don’t honestly think they made me, did you?”

“Well… no? I don’t remember hearing about a man here, though.”

“You wouldn’t. She never tells anyone. She’s ashamed of him,” Preston grumbled, though the sourness he’d tried to put behind his voice was failing. “He’s from the East coast. Rich and powerful, everyone fears his name and more. No one ever tries to mess with him–they can’t.”

“East coast? But, I don’t remember anyone like _that_ on the East Coast…” Stanford narrowed his eyes.

“Everyone knows him. Where do you live? Under a rock?”

“No! I–” Stanford started and then hesitated. Oh. _Oh._ “You… are aren’t meaning one of the drug lords, are you?”

“What?”

“…never mind. Go on.”

“Yeah.” Preston looked at Pacifica and Tiffany. “Well, Mom never married him. She married Tiffany instead and left him. She never told anyone–not even me. She only told me when I asked for the millionth time when I was twelve. She said he was a bad person, but I couldn’t believe her. Mom’d never get in a bad relationship with someone evil. He just wasn’t good for her. But I knew that his name was feared and awed. I wanted that. I wanted the Northwest name to be powerful, just like it once was. Just like when my great-great-great grandfather founded Gravity Falls.” He turned his gaze down. “But I guess she was right.”

Stanford glanced back. The air was getting chillier. The dragon’s reach was expanding. “It’s not too late.”

Preston looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

“It’s not too late,” Stanford repeated. “I know your parents believe in you. You’re a dumb jerk, but you don’t have to be. Help me get rid of this dragon. We just need to thaw the pin on her heart and banish her. It’s not too late to change. You don’t have to be your father or your grandparents, who bullied and hurt everyone who opposed them.” _Or killed them._

Then, a smile spread across Preston’s flushed features. It was a real smile, not a fake one or one of malice.

 _“It’s too late!”_ the cry caused them to jump. The two ran to the edge of the hall. They screamed as they arrived at the edge of the main hall. The entire place was frozen. Not a soul moved. Snow drifted in through open windows. The great dragoness was curled up on her pile of treasure, wide eyes looking over her accomplishment. “You are all ice! Your possessions belong to _me,_ ” she exclaimed.

Stanford set his gaze. He hardly heard Preston call his name as he ran into the frozen scene. He took out his scrapbook, hopped onto a table, and held up a silver platter. “Alright, _ghost._ Prepare to–agk!” He yelped as the frozen metal burned him. The dragon hissed through her teeth and slammed her paw into the ground. Stanford’s feet felt cold. He looked down. Ice crept up his shoes and pant legs, freezing him to the spot. Stanford struggled and screamed, “Oh, no! No, no, no! Someone, help! HELP!” He raised his arms above him. His high-pitched scream was cut off As he was turned to ice.

Preston, huddled behind a curtain, gasped. Nearby, a grandfather clock rang as it struck midnight. The dragon tipped her head back and let out a breath of ice. “First, the main hall. Now, the rest of the mansion. Then, the town! This town and all its wealth will be mine!” she hissed, baring her teeth in a wicked grin.

“HEY, GHOST!”

The dragoness’ head whipped around. Preston stood just inside of the frozen hall, hands behind his back, a grin on his features. “Preston?”

“I prefer the term _master_.” Preston walked forward, brandishing the golden chain with a ship pendent.

She hissed and reared. “You’re not my master! No one is! Not even that stupid pirate magician!” She backed up nonetheless, body expanding, and wings spread wide and back arched to look bigger and fiercer.

Preston continued to approach, the gold chain in his hand, the other hand held behind his back. A pot of steaming water was held behind his back. “I bed to differ. Now, I, the one who bought your charm, order you to unfreeze these people.”

The dragoness hissed.

“That was an _order_ , Dragoness.”

She glowered at him. Then, she laughed, “You believed those foolish, self-centered, money-grabbing pirates, did you? No one’s my master!” She lunged at him, then, mouth wide open and one paw forward. Just as she got close, Preston whipped his hand out and threw the pot. The metal started to grow cold, but not quick enough. Boiling water splashed over her chest.

She let out a shriek of agony and backed up, flapping her wings and looking down at her chest, which gleamed and steamed. The pin, thawed and shiny, unstuck from her chest and clattered to the ground. The dragoness howled and pounced on the pin, desperately trying to stick it back to her chest. But the frost that covered it thawed and no ice was brought about with her flailing or breathing. She started to shrink and most of her melted until finally, all that was left was Stanley, soaked and lying in a giant puddle of water.

The rest of the main hall unfroze.

Stanford gasped and put a hand to his throat. He looked back. Gompers bleated and bounced about Stanford’s feet. Pacifica and Tiffany ran into the main hall and pounced on their wheezing son. Stanley sat up and shook his head. “What the…? What just happened?”

Stanford held out a hand and helped his sopping wet brother to his feet. “You turned into a dragon, froze everyone, and took everyone’s stuff.”

Stanley blinked. “That’s crazy.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Uh… going to the bathroom. I’m goin’ to go dry off.” With that, Stanley hobbled off.

Preston stopped in front of Stanford. “Hey, Stanford.”

“Hey Preston.”

Preston smiled. “Thanks, Stanford.” It was soon lost. “I’m sorry this whole thing happened. I should… probably go get someone to help clean that up.” He gestured to the pile of jewelry, chandeliers, and ornaments on the ground behind them. “You enjoy the rest of the party, Ford. You deserve it.” With that, he walked out of sight.

Mrs. Chiu hobbled up to him. “Woo! Hahaha!”

“Mrs. Chiu! Nice to meet you!” Stanford grinned and then gasped as she took him by the wrist and ran off. He stumbled to a stop around a corner, just out of sight of the party.

Mrs. Chiu stopped and, after checking around the corner, faced him. She popped on her glasses. “Ford! I’ve been looking for you! I fixed the laptop. I been doing calculations and–and I think something terrible is happening! The apocalypse! The End Times!”

Stanford sighed. “Hey, you know what, Mrs. Chiu? Let’s just talk about this tomorrow. It’s a party. Let’s have fun for once.” He walked past her, back to the party, smiling.

“But–” she started. He was gone. She knelt and took out her laptop. The screen blazed in red. “IMMINENT THREAT” was surrounded by a red box. A countdown ticked under it. “21:30:08” counted down. Mrs. Chiu shook her head. “Oh, this is bad! Really bad! Something’s coming.”

 

HSEDE TD MM AYO PM WSPN KOF YEQD ESEY?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Villainizing Preston was never too difficult for me. It’s the part where I have to give him some worth that’s difficult. Good for him, in the end, though. Now let’s hope he never does anything like that again! Eh, I’d like to see a dragon, though, but that’s probably just wishful thinking. Really, Gravity Falls doesn’t have room for awesome super-cool (hehe) dragons, unfortunately. Eh, we got rich people who are nice so we’ve got enough mythical creatures for a while, eh?
> 
>  
> 
> 5: _Hls Brpdtan Cpaxlj Cerocxep Aqeed Tslt Anp Qafeqfl Zirst?_


	9. Not What He Seems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What a perfect day! Let’s hope Mrs. Chiu was wrong about the **d** oomsday device and everything will be happy and perfect and–did you hear that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find the Title Card on dA:

The night quieted most of the life in Gravity Falls. The brightest lights belonged to the dull, flickering street lamps that cast a haunting glow over the concrete and cement under them. The dullest lights lit up windows inside of the multitude of houses. Then, a blue light pulsed in the outskirts of town. The light dulled and then flashed again and then dulled again. Within the Space Shack, bright lights glowed from behind the vending machine.

Hisses of compressed air seeped out of the underground lab. Within the basement, Dipper buzzed about the lab. A red tank top and long pants as well as bright, thick orange gloves a bit too small to be his dressed him. He grabbed a lever and pushed it forward so that it went from its spot by a red line, past a multitude of red lines turning into green ones, and then stopping at the very top notch. Nearby, tanks of bubbling liquid filled up with more of the sickly green, translucent material. Toxic green fought with blue as the dominant light source of the control room.

“Ehhhh come on, come on,” Dipper groaned as he watched the tanks fill. “This should be just enough to finish it off.” Once the tanks were full of bubbling toxic liquid, he sighed and let go of the lever. “Whew. Can’t be too careful with this.”

Yellow became red as the large red warning lights on the top of the tanks blazed on and off. Dipper grinned and looked back. On a long screen above the window, the green letters “EVENT INITIALIZED” glowed. It quickly changed to the red numbers “18:00:00” and immediately counted down.

He sat down and picked up one of the scrapbooks. He flipped through the pages until he got to the one he wanted. “WARNING!” the red letters glared from the top of the page. “EXTREME USAGE NOT RECOMMENDED” Underneath of that stated in slightly smaller letters “COULD RESULT IN MINOR GRAVITY ANOMOLIES”. The black words: “ANOMALY HOTSPOTS” was above a layout of the town. Blue circles of varying sizes covered the map. All of them had two smaller blue rings within them.

“A-huh. ‘Warning’, yes, yes… ‘Extreme usage could result in minor gravity anomalies’. Well, warnings, prepare to be ignored!” He shut the scrapbook. “I’ve come this far, I’m _not_ giving up now.”

Viable as a real working project, he flipped open a small panel on the desk. A large red button was now bared. He slammed his hand onto it. The reaction was immediate.

Easily turning on as if it was good as new, the glowing runes around the portal intensified. The colored glow swirled until it was a rainbow ring of light. Two large circles of light on the ground and on the ceiling glared and shone down or up at each other so that two tubes of light flanked the portal. The glowing center of the portal shifted and then rippled. Bits of the infinite universe appeared behind the ripples like a pond under a glaring light.

“Bah-hah! Yes, this is it!” Dipper breathed, his eyes reflecting the rainbow. So absorbed in the portal was he that he didn’t notice his old pine tree cap lift off his head. Outside, the world felt the repercussions. Rocks floated up. A boat rose out of the lake. Junk cars and broken objects floated in the junkyard. Mrs. Chiu, peacefully asleep, didn’t notice her repaired laptop floating or beeping. On the screen, two green squares of text flanked the very basic outline of the portal and the two green circles on either side. The laptop faced away from Mrs. Chiu. The green turned to red and “ACTIVE” appeared below the portal. Within the boys’ room, Stanford, Stanley, and Gompers peacefully slept. All three rose a few inches in the air along with a few choice belongings. They didn’t wake. Then, the anomaly quieted, and everything fell to its former position.

Eventually, Dipper stood up. He watched as the specs of universe in the portal faded away, replaced by the intense, blue-white glow of the restarted portal. “It’s gunna be a bumpy ride,” he said to himself as he picked up a watch. “But it will all be worth it.” He held up the watch so that he could look at the screen with the time on it. Dipper pressed a few buttons. Then, the watch mirrored the time on the screen. “Just eighteen more hours. Finally. Today, everything changes.”

*          *          *          *          *

Early by some standards but still very bright and alive, the morning light cast everything in a glow. Stanley raced down a hall, laughing like a maniac. Stanford trudged after him. Stanley laughed, “It’s here! It’s over here! Here! Here!” Stanford sighed and rubbed his eyes.

Now Stanley stopped by a door and spun around. “Okay, so, I was just openin’ random doors, when I found something totally _amazing!”_

Drowsily blinking the sleep from his eyes, Stanford shook his head. “If it was worth waking up at seven a.m., it _will_ be amazing.”

Evidentially, Stanley though so and grabbed the door handle and opened it. Within a closet was a giant box labeled “DO NOT TOUCH” overflowing with fireworks filled with serious firepower. Names like “COP CALLER” and “LAWSUIT MAKER” dressed many of them. “Feast your eyes, doubtful brother!”

“Cool!” Stanford snapped out of his drowsy trance.

“I know.” Stanley put a hand on Stanford’s shoulder. “Dude. We’re _both_ thinkin’ it.”

Eying the dangerous fun-to-be, Stanford grinned. The twins announced, their voices so close together they might as well have been one, “Crazy rooftop fireworks party!” They laughed and picked up the first box of fireworks.

Very nearly escaping detection, they nearly gotten down the hall when Grunkle Dipper intercepted them. He was in the still in his nightclothes and his hat still adorned his head. The boys deflated a bit. “Boys! Are those–those are highly dangerous, illegal, prototype fireworks I kept in a closet for a reason.” Grunkle Dipper’s stern features Transformed into one of mischief. “Do you want to test them out with me?”

 

Everything on the roof, Grunkle Dipper, Stanford, and Stanley stood with a cooler full of icy pops and a box full of illegal fireworks. Stanford, holding a sparkler in one hand, plucked an icy pop out of the cooler.

Dipper, sans bathrobe, sat on the chair on the roof with a lit sparkler and a Roman candle. He handed Stanford a skyrocket and a sparkler. “Here you go, Lee. Set something on fire for me, would you?”

Then, Stanley howled and held up the firework. “I am the absolute GOD of Destruction!” he cried. The firework rocketed away and, leaving a spiral trail of glittering smoke, went off above the trees and yard.

“Ha-ha!” Grunkle Dipper lifted Stanley onto his shoulders, the two of them laughing all the while. They stopped laughing as Deputy Lee and Sherriff Nate approached them. Sherriff Lee called, “Hold on a minute. Do you have a permit for those?”

Intimidated more than a little, Stanford shifted his weight, the sparkler still going off in his hand. “Uh…”

Stanley called back, “Do you have a permit for being totally lame?” The three laughed.

“Well, I can’t argue with that.” Sheriff Nate shook his head with an amused chuckle. He and his partner turned and walked off. “Have a nice day, now!” Grunkle Dipper waved back.

He chuckled and sighed. “Alright, but seriously, you two. We should clean this mess up.” Around the yard, small fires popped up. A flag rope burned and snapped in half.

“Okay.” Stanley looked about. “With… water balloons?”

Looking right back at him, Grunkle Dipper shrugged. “You know, I don’t see why not.”

Excited, the boys cheered and held up their dead sparklers.

 

Time passed before Grunkle Dipper, now out of his night clothes and in his navy-blue suit, sat back in his seat with a can of Pitt Cola. He watched the two boys run around the yard, armed with water balloons and icy pops. Stanford ducked out of the way of a water balloon, laughing and hopping from puddle to puddle. He turned around and threw the water balloon in his hand. He mustn’t have thrown it well as it went about a foot or so and landed on the ground without breaking. Stanford clicked his tongue. “Aw! What?” He gasped as a water balloon hit him square in the face.

Immediately, Stanley ran after him, a water balloon in one hand and a half finished icy pop in the other, howling a war cry.

“Man.” Grunkle Dipper chuckled and took a sip of his soda. “Aw, Saturdays. For doing dumb things forever!”

Excited and now interlocking their arms, the boys chanted, “ _Dumb things forever!_ ” They jumped and landed in a pile of water balloons. Grunkle Dipper lifted his foot and laughed as water nearly splashed on him.

Stanley held up his icy pop. “To Grunkle Dipper! Not just our great uncle…”

“But the greatest uncle!” Stanford finished. The two launched their water balloons at Grunkle Dipper. He gasped and then jumped up. “Why you little!” he growled in a mock angry voice and picked up the hose. The already soaked boys screamed and fled as he put his thumb on the spout and directed the rushed stream at them. Both boys held water balloons. When Grunkle Dipper turned his attention on one boy, the other would launch a balloon at him. “Cheaters!” he accused. “Two against one!”

“But you’re older!” Stanford pointed out and then ran away as the water was directed at him.

Stanley chucked a water balloon at his shoulder. “And we’re already a team!”

Finally, after the boys ran out of ammo, Grunkle Dipper dropped the hose and turned off the water. “You two are crazy!”

“You’re crazy!” Stanley retaliated.

Grunkle Dipper picked up his soda. It was empty. “Just by lookin’ at you I’d swear you’d never had a fierce water war.”

Stanford shrugged. “Not really.”

Grunkle Dipper raised his eyebrows. “Really? Well… that needs to change, doesn’t it?”

Stanley waved his hand. “Pssh. We have plenty of summer left to knock you down.”

“Heh. Plenty of summer left,” Grunkle Dipper agreed, though his voice was a bit quieter. He sighed. “Okay, look. Kids, I should tell you something. It’s… um…” He rubbed the back of his neck. Stanley and Stanford lost their smiles. Grunkle Dipper looked at Stanford. His head was cocked and eyes round like a confused owl. Normally, the look on his face would make him laugh. “It’s complicated. I… I’m going to refresh my drink.” Grunkle Dipper turned and walked around the other side of the Space Shack. Nearby trees cast a heavy shadow over him. “Enjoy it while you can, Dipper. There’s only so much time left. They’ll find out sooner or later.” He stood near the window. “It ends today.” A red light glowed on the center of his hat. “Huh?” He set his hand on his hat. The light glowed on the back of his hand. “What…? Oh no.” Dozens of dots appeared over his chest and head. Then, a young man in uniform knocked him over and pinned him. “AGK! HEY!”

Agent Trigger approached from behind him. He pulled up a walkie-talkie. “Target secure! Take the house!” Helicopters flew overhead and came to a hover above the house.

Stanley and Stanford backed into each other and looked about as half a dozen agents surrounded them. One spoke into a walkie-talkie. “Kids are secure. Roof team! Go!” Above them, several agents rappelled out. They broke in through windows and doors. Shattered glass blanketed the wooden floors and carpets and rugs. Doors opened with resounding _crack_ ’s. Each yelled “CLEAR!” as they secured a room. Another agent burst through the boys’ room and tackled Gompers, who bleated in terror. “Goat secure! We have secured a goat!”

Several more agents surrounded the Space Shack in yellow police tape. Many government vehicles parked outside. An agent led Grunkle Dipper to one of the cars, his hands behind his back in cuffs. “Urg-! Hey! Hands off!” he wheezed and then grunted as the agent planted his face onto the truck of one of the cars. His soaked hair splattered water over the hot black metal. “I don’t understand!” he tried. “What did I do wrong?! Wrong enough to warrant _this_ much arresting?!”

Stanley and Stanford crept up to where their great uncle had been detained. Agent Trigger and Agent Powers approached them. Stanford gasped, “The government guys! I thought you were eaten by zombies!”

“We survived. Barely,” Agent Trigger stated in a tight voice.

Agent Powers said, “I used Trigger as a human shield. He cried like a baby.” He approached their great uncle.

“What? Hey! Not in front of the Special OPs guys,” Agent Trigger groaned and followed him.

Agent Powers held up a tablet for Grunkle Dipper, who was now standing up with his hands still held behind his back, to see. “This is security footage of a government waste facility.” The screen showed a room in black and white filled with barrels. A person in a radiation suit walked in with a dolly and stole barrels of waste. “At o’four hundred hours last night, someone robbed three hundred gallons of dangerous waste.”

“ _What?_ You think that’s me?” Grunkle Dipper looked up at him.

Agent Powers put away the tablet. “Don’t play dumb with us, Pines.”

“But I _am_ dumb!” Grunkle Dipper pointed out and sucked in his breath as he was led away. “Last night I was stocking the gift shop! I swear!”

“Wait!” Stanford cried and took a few steps forward. “You’ve got the wrong guy!”

Stanley nodded. “Our great uncle’s a space nerd, not some master criminal! He’d never stand for theft!”

Agent Powers got down on one knee so that he was eye level with the twins. “Listen, kid. We’ve been watching your family all summer and we’ve seen some disturbing things. But _nothing_ as dangerous as what your uncle is hiding. Somewhere hidden in this shack is a doomsday device!” He stood up.

The twins, mouths gaping and eyes wide, looked at each other. _Grunkle Dipper? Doomsday device? Him? What?_

Agent Powers turned to Agent Trigger and handed him the tablet. “Trigger, you take the children. I’ll talk to the old man.” He looked down at the boys. “Sorry to break it to you kids,” He put on a pair of sunglasses. “-but you don’t know your uncle at all.”

“Hey, no!” Stanley glared at them. “You can’t say that! Hey!” He stumbled forward as a hand was placed on his back and he was scooted forward. As Trigger walked to his car, an agent shooed the twins away from their great uncle. “Fight me, I dare you! Don’t walk away, coward! Face me!”

The agent shut the door as they were forced to climb inside of the tan and green-gray police vehicle. They looked out the window at their great uncle, who was loaded into the back seat of an armored government truck. Their eyes met. Grunkle Dipper hit the window with his hand-cuffed hands. “Kids, you have to believe me! I’m actually innocent! KIDS!” he yelled as the car drove off. The kids howled as their car started off down the road.

Outside, Dan strolled to the Space Shack, humming a tune. “Headin’ to work, doo-de-doo.”

“Ground team! Move, move, move!” one agent yelled.

“Break down the door!” another agreed, which led to a few agents breaking down the front door.

Dan took a one eighty and walked away. “Or maybe not.”

*          *          *          *          *

In the Gravity Falls police station, they took various mug shots of Grunkle Dipper and took his finger prints. They set him in an interrogation room and handcuffed his hands behind the chair he sat in. Behind him was a billboard of pictures and newspaper clippings with strings all tied to a picture of his face in the center. It Reminded him a lot of the ones Stanford would make, or the ones Dipper used to make.

Agent Powers stood before the opposite end of the table. “Mason Pines, you stand accused of theft of government waste, conspiracy, and possession of illegal weapons. How do you plead to these charges?”

Dipper stammered for a few seconds before shaking his head. “I-Inno-uilty. Er–Innocent! I–Uh, can I have that phone call now?”

 

Fiddleford sat behind a tree just out of earshot of the Space Shack. He shut his eyes and fumbled with the Cubic’s Cube in his hand. He could still see Stanley and Stanford forced into the back of a police car, screaming and yelling. Or Mr. Pines being detained and roughly forced into the back of a government vehicle. He’d seen arrests before. Like when Stanley got caught stealing a few chocolate bars and was escorted to the county jail to be picked up. Or when a teen had been caught vandalizing something and was picked up. But he’d never seen such an arrest. He shuttered and held the now completed Cubic’s Cube tight to his chest.

_Chhhhhhh! “Hey!”_

Fiddleford jumped and looked down. His walkie-talkie was still stuck in his backpack. He immediately fumbled with the backpack. He stuck his hand in the wrong pouch and ended up touching a lightbulb. He let go and found the right pocket. “Mr. Pines? What happened?! Ah hear ya got arrested an’–an’–”

 _“Fiddleford? Shi–Listen, Fiddleford,”_ Mr. Pines cut himself off. _“I need something from you. You know that vending machine in the gift shop? I need you to guard it with your life. No matter_ what _happens, no matter who talks to you, do not let them touch that machine. Not even Stanley and Stanford.”_

“N-not even Lee and Ford?” Fiddleford squeaked.

_“Not even Lee and Ford. Fiddleford, please! Do this for me!” Chhhhhhh!_

Fiddleford looked at the walkie-talkie, which hissed now that the other line had been cut. He put it away and zipped up the back pack. He took a deep breath and set his gaze. “I promise, Mr. Pines, I will _not_ let you down.” He looked down at his backpack. “No matter what.”

*          *          *          *          *

The kids were in an armored jeep now. Agent Powers appeared in a video chat just above the windshield. “We’ve got Mr. Pines in custody. Our men are searching the Shack for the device. You take care of those kids.” The video shut off.

Stanford gasped. “What are you going to do to us?”

Agent Trigger stated, “We’ll be taking you to child services.”

“Boo!” Stanley complained.

“In the meantime-” Agent Trigger pressed a button. “-enjoy some mindless reality TV, designed to pacify you and make you stop asking questions.”

The TV screen in front of them switched to a scene with a surgeon above a patient. _“I’m about to make the incision…”_

A wildly dressed teen in a green hoodie spotted purple, a backwards blue and white hat, and purple jeans popped out of a potted plant in a storm of confetti. _“KER-PRANK!”_ The surgeon bristled and jumped.

The words “KER-PRANK’D” in large, bubble letters the same color and pattern as Justin’s shirt appeared on screen. “ _You’re watching ‘KER-PRANK’D’ with Justin Kerprank!_ ”

Stanley shook his head. “This is crazy, Ford! There’s no way Dipper is stealin’ hazardous waste.”

“We need to clear his name,” Stanford agreed. “But how…” His gaze traveled to a security camera at the front of the car facing in. “That’s it! The security tapes! He has cameras in the shop, doesn’t he?”

“We just need to get them!” Stanley agreed. “But we’ll need to find a way out of here. Think, Stanley…!” He looked out the car window. Before them, a logging truck driven by “Tough Girl” Wendy drove. On her bumper was an American Flag bumper sticker, a yellow awareness ribbon, and a Woodstock Festival bumper sticker.

The government vehicle turned into the next lane and steadily approached the truck’s side to pass her. Stanley bit back a smile. Once he was sure “Tough Girl” Wendy could see him, he knocked on the window and fogged his window. She glanced down at him quick enough to see him write “TOOK DIPPER”.

She gasped and roared, “NO!” She veered her logging truck in the government vehicle and then struggled to regain her place in the road.

Agent Trigger yelled as his car spun out of control and drove into the woods. “Mayday! Mayday! Agent down!” he screamed. No matter his training and no matter what he did, the truck barreled down the sloping forest. The twins bounced in their seat, yelling in fright as the car was no longer safely on the road. It turned and hit a couple of trees with its side.

Agent Trigger, pressed on all sides by pieces of broken car and tree branches, attempted to wriggle free and open the door. A hefty branch blocked him. “Darn branch!” Stanley hopped out of the car with a whoop of victory. He and Stanford ran around to the driver’s side. “Back up! Requesting backup!” Agent Trigger called into his earpiece.

Stanford snatched his earpiece away and crushed it under his foot.

The kids glared at the trapped agent. Stanley turned around. “Come on, Ford. We’re gunna clear our uncle’s name.”

Agent Trigger sighed. “Oh, you poor kids. You really think your uncle’s innocent? I’ve seen it all before.” Stanley didn’t seem to give an indication he was listening while Stanford hesitated. “False names, double lives–one minute they’re playing with water balloons, the next they’re building doomsday devices. Your uncle scammed the whole world. You gunna let him scam you, too?”

“You…” Stanford started. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He sped up his walk to catch up to Stanley.

“You’re gunna regret this!” Agent Trigger called after them and then sputtered as the airbag went off.

 

Stanley and Stanford hid in the brush on the edge of the road. Two government vehicles, armored and holding open jeep beds, passed by. Stanley and Stanford hitched a ride on the second one. They squirmed under the sheets to stay out of sight.

 

Grunkle Dipper stayed handcuffed in the interrogation room alone. He checked his watch. “5:00:13”. “Five more hours. Grr! Think, Dipper! Think! You have to get out!” He slammed his head on the table. He gasped as the coffee cup shuttered and lifted all on its own. He looked down at his watch, which read “ANOMALY IN PROGRESS”. The liquid contents rose at a quicker rate than the cup. A few seconds later, gravity returned. The cup fell and coffee splashed into the cup and over the table. “Ha-ha! Yes! They’re getting stronger! That’s it!”

Outside, the whole town rose up a few inches and then fell back down.

Gordy looked about and turned to “Growling” Grenda. “Is it just me, or did the entire world just hiccup?”

“Growling” Grenda shrugged. “I’m sure it’s just a baby-sized earthquake.”

“Aw! Baby-sized!” Gordy cooed.

In the junkyard, Mrs. Chiu’s laptop screen read “04:57:41” within a green square. “HRS UNTIL ACTIVATED” glowed beneath it. Mrs. Chiu scrambled about her home, packing things up she needed and hopping on her feet in a panic. “It’s happening! The End Times!” she cried. “When that machine activates–I-I need to get out of town!” She packed the last essential she needed before racing out of her shack and the junkyard.

 

Stanley and Stanford hid in the tree line right outside the Space Shack, which was swarmed by agents.

“Okay, okay,” Stanley pointed to the people in front of the door. “I’ll take out those two guys. You karate chop that one in the neck. Then we’ll backflip through the front door!”

Stanford cleared his throat. “Aren’t you forgetting the simpler solution?”

“Oh. Right. It’s not as much fun.”

A crossbow bolt zipped out of the tree line and through the broken window. A wire was tied to its tail. Both boys zipped down the wire and into the room. The two darted through the attic, down the stairs, and through a hallway. All the while they were careful not to make too much noise so that the agents wouldn’t discover them.

The two arrived in Grunkle Dipper’s office, locked the door behind them and fist-bumped. Stanford looked about. “Now, if I was Dipper, where would I hide those surveillance tapes?”

“Would he hide them?” Stanley prompted.

Stanford nodded. “…good point. But I don’t see them around here. He probably wouldn’t want them to get taken.” The two took off to look through book shelves and filing cabinets.

Stanley looked back at a Jackalope bust on the wall. A bolt was in one of its antlers, which was crooked. “Wait… the antelabbit! Look!”

“Don’t you mean ‘jackalope’?” Stanford couldn’t help but ask as he abandoned his station and arrived by Stanley’s side.

“Pssh. Whatever.” Stanley grabbed the crooked antler and pushed it Up. Immediately, that section of the wall going down hissed and turned around to show two monitors stacked on each other with a keyboard and tape below. The twins hissed their victory. “GIFT SHOP, TUESDAY” was written on the tape most of the way in the tape player. “It’s already in here!” Stanley pushed it in. Stanford pressed a button on his remote.

The bottom monitor hissed and the image of Dan and Fiddleford cheering on Stanley played. _“Go! Go! Go! Go!”_ they chanted as Stanley worm-slunk across the floor. “4:45:00” printed in yellow letters across the top left of the screen.

Stanley shrugged at Stanford’s judgmental gaze. “What? Someone yelled ‘Wormy Dance’. I had to. Fast-forward.”

“6:45:00”.

Grunkle Dipper hummed as he stocked up the items normally on the counter of the cash register.

“Ha!” Stanford cried in victory. “He’s restocking the gift shop and the time stamp confirms it!”

“He’s innocent!” Stanley cheered.

“6:50:00”

Grunkle Dipper’s gaze flicked about. He slipped out from the front door.

“7:15:00”

The gift shop was empty.

“7:30:00”

Shadows were thrown over the empty gift shop.

“8:00:00”

The gift shop was dark and quiet.

Stanford bit his lip. “Uh-oh.”

Stanley shrugged. “Maybe he, uh, went in through another door?”

“5:00:00”

A person in a bright yellow radiation suit walked through the door, a barrel of toxic waste on a dolly in their hands.

The kids gasped. Stanford groaned, “Oh, no, Dipper, you didn’t…”

“Don’t panic!” Stanley held up his hands. “That’s the thing! We don’t know it’s him. He’s probably asleep and some maniac just broke into the store and is using him as a scape-goat! Obviously, this was a set-up.”

“5:15:00”.

The character dropped one of the dozens of barrels they had on their foot. A familiar yelp came in response. Grunkle Dipper held his injured foot. “Gah! Glittering unicorn rainbow blood! Erg.” He set his foot down. “Wait. I’m alone. I can swear for real! _Son of a–_ ”

Stanley skipped through that next part. “That’s him alright.”

Stanford bit his lip. “Okay, well, he stole radioactive waste. That doesn’t really _mean_ anything. I mean, it could be for anything! It doesn’t mean he’s some super-criminal, right?” _Dipper can be trusted. Dipper can be trusted. Dipper can be trusted._

As Stanford spoke, Stanley got down on his knees and took out a box. “Uh… Ford?” He looked up at his brother.

They set the box down on the desk. Stanford yanked the gold chain attached to the lamp next to them, which had a green cover on the top to shield their eyes and direct the light down. Stanley picked up the handful of fake IDs in the box. All of them had pictures that looked very similar to Dipper, but all had different names. Sometimes, different ages. “Wait… these are fake IDs! Why’d he need them? Is this one a girl?”

“Think, Stanley. You only need fake IDs if you’re trying to hide who you are,” Stanford pointed out. He rummaged through the box and picked up various papers and a few passports.

“But why?” Stanley set the ID’s on the desk. “Why would he need to do that? I mean, he’s a bit old in these photos wanting to buy some drinks, isn’t he? Whoa, ‘Martin Forester’? That’s a dumb name.”

Stanford growled in frustration. All of the papers were mundane newspaper or magazine clippings. His fingers passed over the bottom of the box. He hesitated and then tapped on the bottom of the box. “This is a bit high, isn’t it…?” He crinkled the cardboard to pull it off the top. A dozen tapes were stacked and compressed neatly together next to a whole bunch of photos.

He rifled through them. Like Scrapbook Three, these pictures were of odd creatures. Gnomes, vampire bats, flying eyeballs, the glade with gems. Blue writing scrawled on the back.

“ _Crystals will make me smaller,_ ” wrote one passage underneath of a picture. “ _She’s shorter, will be easier to mimic her if I’m smaller._ ”

There was a picture of the Bottomless Pit. “ _Nothing comes back. Good way to dispose of evidence._ ”

Stanford and Stanley looked through it, flipping each page. “This…” Stanford muttered. “This looks like the scrapbook pictures. But one Grunkle Dipper made?”

Stanley’s eyes went round. “Do you think _he’s_ the author?”

Stanford shook his head. “No, there’s not enough glitter. This looks like his handwriting, but what are these annotations? Is he trying to turn into somebody?”

“A her?” Stanley agreed. He gasped and took out the fake ID. It looked like him, if feminine.

“Look at the height!” Stanford picked up one of the other IDs and compared the height. “Grunkle Dipper can’t be that short. If he’s really standing in for that girl. _That girl._ Stanley…” His eyes met Stanley’s.

Stanley shuffled through the papers and then picked up one. “‘Secret code to hideout?’”

“A1, B, C3?” Stanford opened the journal and flipped to the page about ciphers. “This doesn’t look like any of these codes…”

“No. It’s the vending machine,” Stanley stated. “The vending machine had a panel like this!”

Stanford put away the journal and stood back. “I know where we’re going now.”

*          *          *          *          *

Grunkle Dipper sat in the interrogation room. He checked his watch constantly. “00:14:03”.

Agent Powers walked into the room, flanked by a few agents. “Alright, Pines. Playtime is over. Chopper’s ready to dust off to Washington. I’ll enjoy putting you away.”

“What?” Grunkle Dipper bit his tongue and smiled. “Um, can we stick around for maybe one minute? Uh, a minute and a half?”

“We’re not falling for your games, Pines,” Agent Powers stated dryly and walked behind him. “Your time is finally up.”

Grunkle Dipper chewed on his lip. “U-uh! Bathroom break? Just give me… fifteen seconds!”

Agent Powers knelt behind him and started unlocking Grunkle Dipper’s handcuffs. “Sorry, but you’ve got a flight to catch.”

_Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep._

Grunkle Dipper smirked. “And so do you.”

“Huh?”

Gravity reversed itself.

The objects and people in the room rose. The agents yelled in surprise. Grunkle Dipper curled his legs back and kicked. The table he’d previously sat behind hit the two agents, knocking them back. In the process, he was thrown back into Agent Powers, who huffed as the wind was knocked out of him. He slammed the chair against the wall and kicked off. The chair splintered. Grunkle Dipper dove toward the key Agent Powers dropped and snatched it. Within seconds, he was free of his bonds.

“Hey! Dang it, get back here!” Agent Powers yelled. “Men, get him!” The two agents, now recovered from the initial shock and the hit, dove at Grunkle Dipper. With a triumphant whoop, he kicked the one in front of him behind himself and then the other. Both were thrown into Agent Powers. He managed to hit the door, open it, spin into the hall and, using the door as an anchor, shut and locked it. Agent Powers cried, “No! You won’t get away with this!”

Grunkle Dipper’s watch beeped, and gravity started to work again.

They landed. Farther down the hall, Deputy Lee, holding a piñata, fell out of a room. Sherriff Nate, blind folded, waved a bat. “Gon’ getcha! Gon’ getcha!”

Grunkle Dipper darted outside and ran to the first taxi he found. Panting, he put a hand on the door. The taxi driver rolled down the window. “Do you know where the Space Shack is?”

“Uh, yeah?”

Grunkle Dipper fished some cash out of his pocket and presented it to the man. “Here’s a hundred dollars. Drive as fast and far away from the Shack as possible and don’t stop when the police start chasing you!”

The taxi driver shrugged, took the money, rolled up the window, and raced away. Grunkle Dipper hid behind a flipped car as Agent Powers and the two other agents ran out. “He’s getting away!” one of the agents yelled.

Agent Powers looked at the taxi, which screeched around a corner. “Obviously! Follow that cab!”

 

At the Space Shack, Agent Trigger ran his car through the front yard of the Space Shack and hopped out. “Mason escaped! He’s at large! We need to sweep the town!” As the agents dispersed, he yelled, “Move! Move! Move!”

*          *          *          *          *

Agents from within the house marched out into the yard and into cars, trucks, vans, and helicopters. Fiddleford gently opened the window of the gift shop overlooking the vending machine. Once it was open just big enough for him, which wasn’t very big, he squirmed through and fell onto the wooden floor. He Scrambled to his feet. Fiddleford stood with his back against the vending machine. His backpack, one pocket open, was thrown over his shoulders. He held a remote.

“Okay,” Fiddleford breathed. “Remember the plan: Protect the vendin’ machine at all costs. Don’t let anyone in. Not even S-S-Stanford or S-Stanley. Not even those scary l-lookin’ government people.” He took a deep breath and relaxed. “Don’t freeze up now, Fiddleford! You’ve got a job ta do and dag nabit you aren’t gunna mess it up!”

“Fiddleford?” Fiddleford jumped as Stanford called his name. He turned to look at the two as they ran out from somewhere in the house and stop in front of him.

“O-oh! Stans! Where have you been?”

Stanford tipped his head. “What are you doing here?”

Stanley narrowed his eyes. “What are you hiding?”

“Mr. Pines gave me a mission to protect this machine,” Fiddleford stated. “Ah’m not lettin’ anyone near it.”

Stanford sighed. “Okay, Fiddleford, listen. Something big is going on here. If Dipper is hiding something, we need to know! We need you to step aside.”

Fiddleford shook his head. His grip on the remote tightened. “N-no! Ah gave him my word that Ah would protect this machine with ma life! Ah’m not going to let him down!”

Stanford took a step forward, “Fidds, we’re his great nephews!”

“Come on, why’d he ask for your help? You’re not even supposed to be here,” Stanley pointed out.

Fiddleford winced. He took a step back as Stanley took a step forward. “Ah-Ah know. But he asked me ta help an’ Ah will. He gave me a job ta do an’ Ah won’t muck it up.” He was up against the glass of the vending machine, now.

Stanford smiled. _Get away. Get away._ “Come on. We’re not those government people.”

“It’s just a misunderstanding,” Stanley agreed. “People are mad at him. Maybe if we get in there, we can clear it all up!”

Fiddleford shook his head wildly. “No, not even you two. Ah-Ah’m sorry. Ah can’t let ya get to this machine.”

Stanford sighed and looked at his brother. Stanley nodded. “Sorry, Fiddleford.”

“Wh-what?” Fiddleford gasped as Stanford attempted to take him by the arm and pull him back. Stanford snatched the remote out of his hands, easily disarming him and neutralizing any real threat Fiddleford would have been. Fiddleford struggled and pushed Stanford’s chest and grabbed his wrist. “Come on, guys! I don’t want to fight you!”

Stanley wrapped his arms around Fiddleford’s chest from behind and pulled him back. “You didn’t say that when those dumb cultists were threatin’ us!” Stanley barked.

“Ah had to! Ah never meant ta hurt ya!” Fiddleford wriggled out of his grasp and bowled over Stanford, who’d gotten to the machine.

Stanley tapped in the code behind him. Each button in the “C” shaped pattern glowed when pressed. Fiddleford spun around and, clambering to his feet, attempted to pull Stanley back. Stanley managed to tap in the last button. The three yelled in surprise as the vending machine swung open with a wild hiss, throwing them all back. Stanley helped his stunned brother to his feet. Fiddleford hopped up.

The trio stalked into the concrete tunnel on light feet. Fiddleford looked about with wide eyes. “What the-? It looks like something from a TV show.”

“Or a dream…” Stanley agreed.

“…or a nightmare,” Stanford stated in a dark voice.

*          *          *          *          *

Grunkle Dipper raced through the trail back to the Shack. He checked his watch. His face paled further as he checked the time. “No! No, I have to be there when it happens!” He didn’t even wince as the brambles of a bush he blundered through tore into the shoulder of his suit.

*          *          *          *          *

Stanley, Stanford, and Fiddleford rode down through the elevator. Despite their previous argument, Stanford didn’t berate Fiddleford for pressing up against him. The gates shakily opened. The trio gasped as they walked straight into one of Stanford’s mystery books. The walls glowed in lights. Buttons, levers, and screens decorated the humming machinery lining the wall. The three looked over the area with eyes wide as moons.

“Guys?” Stanley managed to wheeze. He gulped. “Are we dreaming? Are we back in the bunker?”

Stanford slowly shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Fiddleford’s gaze flicked about the awesome machinery. “This–this can’t be–what is this doin’ under the Space Shack?”

Stanford’s eyes narrowed. “And what was the entrance doing in plain sight?”

Fiddleford tore his gaze away from the walls and to Stanford. “Okay, so he’s got this giant, futuristic lab hiding under the Shack. That doesn’t mean anythin’ bad! Everyone’s got secrets! Doesn’t mean they’re all bad!”

“I’m not hiding an underground lab in my house,” Stanford countered, his voice dark. “Let’s not forget the fact that you _did_ have some awful secret.”

“He’s our great uncle,” Stanley pointed out. “It can’t be that bad. What if he’s like a scientist or somethin’? It sounds like him.” Stanley stopped in front of the desk at the end of the room. He plucked a well-kept, framed picture of him and Stanford. “Look! It’s us! This _is_ Grunkle Dipper. He loves us, dude. We love him, too, right?”

Stanford stared at the desk. “It… it can’t be. The _other two scrapbooks?_ ” Fiddleford and Stanley gathered beside him. Laid out before them were two scrapbooks, both facing up. Both of them were pink, accented yellow and tattered with age. A yellow paper shaped like a shooting star pasted on the front of both of them. The number “1” dressed the first, while the number “2” dressed the second. Stanford set down Scrapbook Three. They were a match. Stanford’s hands balled into fists. Suddenly, the terror and suspicion and denial he felt stewed into cold fury. “All this time?! All this time and _he had the other scrapbooks?!_ ” He stamped his foot. “Was anything he told us real?”

“A-a’ course it’s real,” Fiddleford stammered.

Stanford whirled around and got nose-to-nose with him. Fiddleford paled and took a step back. “Then why would he have those scrapbooks? Why would he have them _and not tell us?_ ” Fiddleford opened his mouth and then shut it.

Stanley chipped in, “What if he’s the author?”

“Or he _stole_ them from the author!” Stanford turned on him now. “Maybe he was the one threatening the author, he’s the one the author couldn’t trust. Think about it! He’s an awkward, star-loving nerd who _terrified_ of Grenda. What if she was friends of the author? She was friends with Candy. Why is he so weird around Candy _who worked with the author?_ He tricked us into believing he didn’t believe in the paranormal. He hid this from us all summer. What if he was ‘friends’ with the author and then turned on her and stole her stuff? That would explain the scrapbook pictures and IDs! And maybe he _is_ a master criminal and _this_ is his master plan!” Stanford looked up at the window. In the other room, a giant triangle machine with a white glowing center stood at the back. The runes ringing the white glow blazed in a swirling rainbow.

Stanford flipped open all three scrapbooks to the page on the machine, which was bookmarked. He pointed to the triangular machine, scribbled with technical annotations, on the books and took out a black light. Glowing words scrawled across the page in messy hand writing. “I was wrong this whole time,” Stanford read aloud. “This machine was meant to create peace, but it is too powerful. I was tricked, and now it is too late. The device, if fully active, could tear our universe apart!” He looked over a picture of the world split in two with the words “TOTAL GLOBAL DESTRUCTION” written in heavy ink below it. “It must not fall into the wrong hands. If the clock ever reaches zero, our universe is doomed!”

They looked up. A long screen above them counted down. “00:01:30” blazed in bold red numbers.

Stanley gasped, “It’s the final countdown!”

Stanford frantically flipped through the pages of the scrapbooks until he landed on one boldly proclaiming: “MANUAL OVERRIDE”. His expression hardened. “Those government agents were right. We need to shut it down, now!”

Stanford led them through the door into the portal room. They gasped as the room shuttered. Dust and bits of stone defected from the ceiling. Pointless ceiling lights waved and shuttered. Before them, blazing in bluish white light, was a triangular chunk of smooth metal that spanned from wall to wall, floor to ceiling of the basement nearly as big as the Space Shack itself. Stanford suddenly felt very small. It was so familiar… triangular with one great hole in the center… glowing with light… promising power…

Stanford looked about and then pointed to the right wall, where a stand with levers and the words “MANUAL OVERRIDE” stood. Three keys spread apart on the table. “There!” Stanford cried. “The manual override!” They raced to the scene, each person standing before one. “On my count! One, two, three!” They turned the golden keys at the same time. Near the center of the room, a pole with a bulb at the end hissed. The top half of the metal bulb flipped open, revealing a large red button. Wires ran from it, down a few feet toward the portal, and then split off to opposite sides of the room. “That’s it! The shutdown switch!” Stanford ran to the button. Under normal circumstances, he might have stumbled, tripped, or started to wear down. He’d done so much today that his body was complaining. Not today; this would not happen. He would not–could not–afford any delay. The universe couldn’t risk it.

Stanford stopped in front of the button and raised his hand. “This all stops… _now!_ ” Palm flat and fingers spread wide, Stanford lowered his hand over the button.

“STOP!” The shriek caused the boys to freeze and look at the door. “Please, don’t touch that button!” Grunkle Dipper stood at the door, one hand on the door frame, the other held out in front of him. His hair was wild and tangled in the wind and rush of events. Part of it was dry, some still stuck up at angles and glistened. Cuts tore through his suit in various places. He stared at the them with an intensity and a terror none of them had known before. Not even facing zombies or facing a pterodactyl had this light come to his eyes. But Stanford couldn’t focus on that. He couldn’t focus on the heartbreaking terror and desperation the kindest person in his life now held. This man was a traitor–a _threat_.

Stanford’s hand remained suspended over the button.

Grunkle Dipper, both hands in front of himself, walked toward them. “Ford, calm down, back away. Please, don’t press that shutdown button. You _have_ to trust me!”

“And why would I do that?” Stanford’s voice held an icy barb, now. _Trust no one. Trust no one. Trust no one._ His hand retracted from the button as he fired up his rant. “After you hid those scrapbooks? After you stole radioactive waste and lied to us all summer? Why should I trust you?! I don’t even know who you are!”

Grunkle Dipper stopped a few feet away. For a moment, he stood speechless as if the last sentence had created a physical barrier before him. He forced himself to continue forward, holding his hands out in a gentle manner. “I know this sounds crazy but _please._ This machine _needs_ to stay on! If you let me explain, I’ll–oh no.”

_Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep._

“Another one! Brace yourselves!” His words turned into a shout as gravity gave up. They, along with the entire town above ground, were weightless. Anything not nailed to the ground, and even a few small things that were, lost contact with the earth. People, food, animals, signs, cars, and a logging truck reached for the sky. Within the portal room, the bluish white glow in the center of the portal died off and revealed the endless expanse of the universe.

“T minus thirty-five seconds.” Somewhere in the lab, The clock ticked down. It was strange having a robotic doomsday voice being the only thing holding any essence of calm.

Stanley waved his arms as he attempted to right himself. He ended up hitting a wooden beam and held onto it. Stanford hovered in the middle of the room, his only anchor being a wire attached to the shutdown button. Stanley looked back. “FORD! The button! Hurry!” Stanford grabbed onto the wire and pulled himself down.

“NO!” Grunkle Dipper landed on the opposite wall and launched himself toward the button. “Ford, wait! Stop! Agk!” He yelped as Stanley barreled into him, his arms and legs wrapped around his back and shoulders. “STANLEY! What are you doing?!” He attempted to pry Stanley hands off him, but Stanley’s fingers locked together, and he held on with all his might. Stanford grabbed onto the metal pole and wrapped himself around it.

“No! I’m not letting go, Dipper, if that’s who you are.” Stanley looked down at his twin. “Keep going!”

Grunkle Dipper twisted himself around so that he could recover from the knock back. Stanley glared at him and then glanced at Fiddleford, who clung to a support nearby. “Fidds!” He gasped as Grunkle Dipper managed to pry apart his fingers. “Help!”

The young mechanic pushed himself off the beam and rammed into Grunkle Dipper. He was forced back rather than to the side.

Stanley, regaining his grip, yelled, “Ford, press the red button! _Now!_ ”

Grunkle Dipper attempted to wriggle out of their grasp. The boys were too much. One was bad enough, but the team was impossible. “No, you can’t! You’ve got to trust me! _FORD!_ ”

Stanford coiled himself around the bar and held his hand over the button. A mess of thoughts gathered in his head. _“Press the button!” “No! Don’t!” “Do it! They need you!” “DON’T! He needs you!” “The universe is at stake.” “Dipper knows what he’s doing.” “Stop being stupid and press the button!” “Your brother gave you an order!” “He gave you an order!” “He’s a traitor! Just like Bill and Fiddleford!”_ “Dipper,” he managed to choke out. “I’m sorry. I don’t! I can’t! I want to believe you!” He shook his head. Noise from echoing basement and his own violent head beat into his skull like a sledgehammer. His heart raced, and his lungs quit working properly. His skin tingled, and his blood felt weird. He felt weightless but, at the same time, like he was about to be crushed. What was this? He’s going to screw up! Why was this his decision? He’d screw up and destroy the universe. He’s going to–

“Stanford, it’s okay.” Grunkle Dipper’s voice came to him. It was far from quiet, but it was not harsh. It was the same voice he used so many times before. When Stanford got overwhelmed, he’d hear that voice. Soon after, he’d feel a large, soft hand on his shoulder or back or head or arm. As if by magic, the terror would seep away. Stanford forced his eyes to open. When had he closed them? He looked up at the three floating people. “Deep breaths. This is going to be okay.”

“No, it’s not!” Stanley countered. “Press the button!”

Just like that, Stanford was broken out of the tentative hope and was torn back to reality. “No!” His hand curled into a fist. _Trust no one. Trust no one. Trust no one._

“Stanford, wait! Please! Just li–”

“T minus twenty seconds.”

The portal exploded. They screamed as a blinding light blazed through the room. The force of a tidal wave pushed them. While all three people in the air lost their grip on one another and hit the farthest wall, Stanford was shoved harder into the pole.

“This morning, I wanted to say that you’re going to hear some bad things about me,” Grunkle Dipper started. Stanford opened his eyes again. Grunkle Dipper had hit the wall so hard, he dented a metal pipe. His arms were hooked under it now to stabilize himself. “Some of them are true. But I swear that everything I do, everything I’ve ever done, is all for this family! For all of us!”

Stanley, who was pressed tight against the wall to his right, barked, “What if he’s lying?! You know better, Ford! Listen to your head! This thing could destroy the universe!”

“Look into my eyes, Ford. Tell me I’m a bad person,” Grunkle Dipper demanded.

Stanford looked between them, his head jerking from side to side to focus on each as they spoke. He… he couldn’t bear to look into Grunkle Dipper’s eyes. _He’s lying! He’s your great uncle. No, he’s not! You don’t know who he is! Everything he’s done is for you, you know that. Press the button! Don’t press the button. He betrayed you, like everyone else!_

“He’s _lying_ , Ford! Shut it down, now!”

“Ford, please!” Grunkle Dipper begged. Tears glimmered in the air around his eyes.

“Ten… nine…”

Electricity hissed and arched from the portal to the two pits of light on either side of the room. Lasers shot out of the circles of light in the floor straight up like prison cells. _Trust no one. Trust no one… trust no one…_

“…eight… seven…”

“Dipper…” Stanford stared into his eyes. _Trust no one… Trust no…_

“…six… five…” _Trust no… Trust… Trust him._

Stanford relaxed and untangled himself from the shutdown button. He felt himself begin to float. The hard feeling of gravity crushing him dissipated as he spoke. “I trust you.”

“…four… three…”

 _“FORD ARE YOU INSANE?!_ ” Stanley shrieked. “ _WE’RE ALL GOING TO–”_

“…two… one.”

The portal let out one last shockwave. Light enveloped them all, blinding them, burning them. Screams added the crescendo of catastrophic, ear-bursting noise in the basement and the world around them. It leeched the consciousness of the people around the portal as everything turned white. People floated, weightless, unconscious. Objects soared. The glass on Stanley and Stanford’s picture shattered. The gravity outside gave one last tug to bring everything, including houses cemented to the ground, up into the air. Then, everything fell.

 

Bodies littered the basement floor. Stanford, the first to recover, got up on his knees and rubbed his head. As the light died, they found themselves in a basement of rubble. The portal, broken, stabbed the ground at the far end of the room. The light swirled and frothed. An entity, a humanoid wrapped in black, stepped out of the portal. A giant gun longer than Stanford was tall strapped to the figure’s back. The light caught the entity’s goggles, hiding the figure’s eyes completely. A four-legged creature, a yard to the shoulder and most of the top part covered in midnight fur, stopped at the figure’s heel.

The woman didn’t make a sound as she stepped forward. She hesitated by Scrapbook One and knelt. Her fingers brushed over the cover before curling around the edges and picking it up. As she pulled back her jacket to fit the book in a bag under it, she revealed part of a pretty pink sweater with a shooting star on it.

Stanford stared at her, his mouth open and eyes wide. “Who’s that?”

Grunkle Dipper sat up. “The author of the scrapbooks…”

The woman took off her goggles and pulled down the bandana around her mouth. Her eyes, the same deep brown as Dipper’s, stared down at him. Long, wavy silver hair spilled out and framed her face and scarf. The kids stood up and clustered together, gaping at the newest edition to the basement.

“…my sister.”

*          *          *          *          *

_Sunlight, dull and red as the sun died, fell to the ocean waves. Shadows from nearby buildings and the trees in the park were thrown. Two kids sitting on a see-saw faced the sunset. The see-saw creaked as the twins, a girl and boy of twelve, gently and slowly moved up and down like the quiet, perpetually pushing and pulling tides of the ocean._

****

MYCFZL RLW ZXKNAGZ ZHLXGJY! ZHP DUFR MVHLL? MNI OBMY NOBG-JCRXW SYVL.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vail, sacred curtain of trust, fall! I think that’s appropriate enough for our traumatized and trust-issues smarty-pants. Grunkle Dipper was only doing what was right, what needed to be done. Needed to be done? Eh, it did but I’m sure telling them beforehand wouldn’t have had violent repercussions. Really, it’s fine, it’s not like Stanford’s frail psych would’ve caused him to stop responding to Dipper sooner. Eh, back to the drawing board it is.
> 
>  
> 
> 5: _Myyq Atmy Txxe Njbvbyv Mazm Oahcy Lbfv. Qztm Yuhixem Fhp?_


	10. Tale of Two Maes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, a lot has happened. Everything’s going wrong and portal exploded and the entire town is up **s** ide down and how about story time?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find the Title Card on dA:

_New, relentless heat of the California sun blazed over the beaches, city, and deserts of the west coast. Twins, one a boy and one a girl no older than twelve, stood in their small, comfy living room. Despite the summer heat outside, the girl wore a pink sweater branded by a yellow shooting star. The boy’s blue and white baseball cap with a pine tree silhouette in the center of the front pushed down his thick brown hair._

_Optimistic, Dipper pulled out a square of cardboard from his navy-blue vest. Mabel, his sister, held a camera and watched him. Dipper cleared his throat, wiped off his smile, and held the sign out of sight of the camera. “DIPPER’S GUIDE” with the slightly smaller letters “TO THE” underneath of that and then the large letters “UNEXPLAINED #12” “‘SHOWER DOOR’” dressed it. Mabel turned on the camera and gave him the thumbs up. “Hello, I’m Dipper Pines and the girl with the camera is my sister, Mabel. Welcome to Dipper’s Guide to the Unexplained.” He held up his cardboard piece just under his head for the camera to see. “‘SHOWER DOOR’. Normally, houses aren’t haunted unless there’s been some strange paranormal activity before. But apparently, there’s no history on this house!”_

_With a winning smile the camera could not see, Mabel shook her head. “None!”_

_“This is very suspicious. So, we’re setting off to investigate it ourselves.” Dipper crept out of the living room and to their bathroom. “Every night, that door mysteriously opens.” Dipper pointed to the sliding opaque glass door on their shower. It was slightly ajar. He shut it. “Every night, we close it. But then, in the morning, it’s mysteriously open! No one in the house knows why.”_

_“Heh! That’s why we made a bunch of theories!” Mabel agreed. Dipper took the camera from her and pointed it at her. Mabel dug through a bag she had at her side and held up a stack of papers. The front one had a spooky green ghost opening the bathroom door. An arrow was pointed to it with the words “Prank-ghost!”. “One theory is it could be some sort of ghost that likes to pull pranks! That would explain why our bedroom door keeps opening, too!” She set down that paper to expose another, which was a picture of the glass door with an angry face on it. An arrow labeled “Watches us when we shower??” was pointed to the face. “It could be a haunted door that opens and closes by itself.” The third picture was of Dipper running with a camera with swirls for eyes. “Or Dipper is just crazy!”_

_At once, Dipper took the paper away from her. “That’s not true! That’s not a real theory!” Mabel laughed. He cleared his throat and turned the camera around to face him. “How do you catch something that has never been caught? Easy. We’re going to do a stake-out.”_

_That night, Dipper and Mabel stood in the bathroom. Mabel turned the camera on and pointed it at Dipper. Dipper whispered, “It’s night. I’m shutting the shower door.” Dipper shut the shower and bathroom door and then ran with his sister into the closet. They shut the door. Eventually, they heard the bathroom door creak open. Dipper and Mabel grinned at each other and tip-toed out of the closet. The shower creaked open. Dipper opened the bathroom door and pointed to the shower. “A-ha! We caught you… Fluffy?” Mabel turned the camera on their gray cat, who stood in the shower. He mewed. Dipper sighed and turned to the camera. “Due to irrefutable evidence, I must conclude that Anomaly Number Twelve, the Bathroom Ghost, was our cat, Fluffy.” Fluffy mewed and jumped out of the shower to greet them._

_Mabel turned off the camera and smiled. “Don’t look so down, Dipper! We’ll find a ghost or goblin or whatever someday.”_

_“Ah, yeah, I hope so.” Dipper smiled and yawned. “Guess it’s time to go to bed.”_

_“Bedtime! Good night, bro-bro.” Mabel walked back to their room._

_Eventually, with weighted feet, Dipper followed her. “Good night, Mabel.”_

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

Later, years later, dust swirled through the shaken town of Gravity Falls. The late sun tentatively shone over the terrorized forest. The Space Shack, worn as the portal’s immense energy outbursts injured it, sagged under its own heavy weight. Underneath of the Space Shack, the below ground lab did not fair any better.

In the basement, the triangular portal that once blazed with light and energy lay in ruins. Stanford, Stanley, and Fiddleford stood clumped together near the door. Fiddleford clung to Stanford. Stanley held Stanford’s hand. All three of them focused on the black-garbed person in the center of the room.

Standing just a few feet away from them, Grunkle Dipper’s round eyes stared at the figure before him, at the person who’d just left the portal. Grunkle Dipper wore a grin larger than any of the kids had ever seen. “After all these years!” he announced. “You’re here! You’re finally here!” The woman looked him up and down. _“Sister!”_

Bold stance now slacking, the woman’s eyes grew round. She pulled down the black scarf over Her mouth. “Dipper? Oh my _GOD!_ ” She ran forward, and he met her. The two laughed and squeezed each other in tight hugs. Dipper wheezed as she knocked the air out of him. “Dipper! You’re here! You actually seriously restarted the portal, oh my God! I told you not to!”

“Ah-hah! I tell you not to do things all the time,” Dipper pointed out. “But you do them anyway.”

Cackling, Mabel let go of him and punched him in the shoulder. “Dammit, man! I’m supposed to be mad at you for restarting this doomsday device! Stop being happy!” He winced and put a hand on his arm.

“Kay? Uh, hey?” Stanley ran up to them. The siblings turned to him. Jeez, they were identical. Were it not for their gender, they could be as indistinguishable as Stanley and Stanford. They were even the same height! “What the _heck_ is going on here?!”

The new woman looked at him. Her eyes grew round, and they could swear they could see stars in them. “You didn’t tell me there were children down here, Dipper!”

“Heh. They’re your grandnephews, Mabel. Tyrone’s grandchildren.”

“I’m a great aunt?” the woman echoed. “Oh my God I’m a great aunt!” She knelt and held out her hand for Stanford to take. “Whoa, a six-fingered handshake? A full finger friendlier than normal!”

Now, Stanford’s eyes went wide. “Y-you really think so?” Oooooh he felt faint. The author of the journals just walked out of the portal, shook his hand, and called him cool. Nope, he already fainted and now he was dreaming.

Grinning, she nodded. “Oh, you’re adorable! The three of you are the cutest great nephews!”

Stammering a bit, Fiddleford chuckled, “N-now, uh, Ah’m not their brother or, uh…”

Stanley snickered, “Not right now you aren’t!”

“Hey, come on!” Fiddleford and Stanford exclaimed, causing Stanley and Grauntie Mabel both to chuckle.

“Okay!” Great Aunt Mabel cleared her throat and glanced back at her brother. “Right. Uh, does anyone know about this portal? Anyone at all?”

“Uh… just us.” Grunkle Dipper hesitated. “And maybe the entire US government.”

“Lucky u–wait, _what?”_ The woman ran to the window that stood as a barrier between the portal room and the control room. People in government uniforms and armor along with helicopters and cars gathered around the Space Shack.

Dangerously close to them, agents swarmed the Space Shack. _“Fan out! We’re not going anywhere until we find Mason Pines and those kids!”_ Agent Powers commanded.

“Fwew. Okay.” Grauntie Mabel glanced at her brother and stood back. “Okay, this can definitely be solved.” She took out her first scrapbook as well as a pen. “We just need to lay low and figure out a plan.”

At once, Stanley looked between them. “Well, it looks like we’ll be stuck here for a while. Sooo who wants to tell us their entire life story?”

Looking up from her scrapbook, Grauntie Mabel nodded. “Great idea! I have some questions, too, Dipper.”

Listening intently, but still behind Stanford, Fiddleford blurted out, “Who are you?”

“I am Mabel Pines: twin sister of Dipper, dimension-jumper, crafter extraordinaire!”

“Now, what’s with the portal?” Stanley piped up, “Why’s it a secret?”

Then, Stanford nodded, “In addition: what happened between you two? Did you create the portal?”

“O-okay, but–” Fiddleford threw his arms in the air. “–why didn’t ya tell us about magic in the first place if ya were goin’ to be followin’ us, anyway?”

Placating them, or trying to, their great uncle held his hands up in front of himself. “Okay, okay, okay. I know I have a lot of explaining to do. Let’s see… It all started a lifetime ago… nineteen sixty something. Piedmont, California.” A slight smile flitted over his features. “We lived with our Mom and Dad in our little home on the corner. Nice house, if small. I mean, we did have an upstairs. Ahem, anyway, our parents were great. Mom was very creative and pretty much thought that everything could be enhanced with color and pictures. She was a painter after all.” He chuckled. “Mabel definitely took after her. Dad was very involved with all of us. He worked long hours at the auto shop, but he always had time for us.”

Looking quite happy, Grauntie Mabel agreed, “Oh, yeah. Dipper took after him. He was always the cutest, nerdiest little brother.”

“Agk. I’m not little! We’re the same age!” Grunkle Dipper complained.

“Come on. I’m five minutes older. And girls mature faster,” Grauntie Mabel pointed out.

“Eh-huh. Okay.” Grunkle Dipper crossed his arms. “I thought I was telling the story.”

“Oh, right. Carry on.”

Grunkle Dipper chuckled and went on, “Anyway, while Mabel was very into crafts, I’ve always been obsessed with the paranormal. You know, Mabel was the one who gave me my nick-name.”

“Yep! The Big Dipper!”

“Hehe. Yep. I was normally into studying and schoolwork. But Mother always said that Mabel had a thing called: ‘ _creatimagination’_. But, different as we were, we made the most amazing team. Every day we’d go out and search for more paranormal activity. We’d hunt down ghosts and goblins and anything that sounded out of the ordinary.”

 

_Encouraged by the niceness of the day and their own curiosity, the twins navigated the streets, their bright eyes looking about their surroundings. Mabel held her hands out and skipped, often hopping from one area to another. She laughed as a butterfly fluttered past her nose. Dipper held a camera and surveyed his surroundings. Soon, they came across a trailer stuck in the side of the road, just outside of the housing district. Its remaining tires sunk into the ground and plants crept up its broken and rusted sides. “Whoa!” Dipper breathed and held up his camera. “A broken old trailer! Do you think it could be haunted?”_

_“Whoa!” Mabel gasped, her deep brown eyes round. She turned to her brother with a devilish grin and pushed him. “I dare you to touch it!”_

_“Ah! Mabel!” Dipper complained but approached the vehicle all the same. He opened the backdoor to shed light over the dusty, rusted interior. He hopped inside, causing it to shutter. A mouse scampered over his feet._

_“Are you dead?” Mabel called and walked around to the back._

_“Nope!” Dipper called back and jumped down. “Hmm… you know, this doesn’t look like a half bad lab.”_

_“Yeah!” Mabel agreed. “Let’s give it a…_ trailer makeover! _”_

_Dipper started to speak but yelped as a pebble hit his head. “Ow! What the-?” The two turned around. Standing a few feet away from them were two of the bigger bullies that like to attack them._

_The blond one clicked his tongue. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Dip-stick and Marbles! Nice trailer! I see your mom finally got a car.” The blond one held up his hand. His brunette friend high-fived him._

_Mabel stamped her foot and glared at them. “Get lost before I bust your nose!”_

_The blond one sneered, “You wish! Listen up, dorks. You’re a weird freak,” he pointed at Dipper, who pulled his hat down to shadow his face, “-and you’re just a dumber, girl version of him!” He looked at Mabel, who bristled. “You’re lucky you got each other ’cause you ain’t goin’ nowhere!” He snickered and high-fived his brunette friend before cycling away._

_Dipper glanced up at his forehead and pressed his hat down firmer over his thick hair._

_“Hey, Dippy dog, don’t take it personally.” She punched him in the shoulder. “One of these days, we can leave these losers behind. We’ll start our own monster hunting team and go across the country!”_

_“You really think so?” Dipper prompted._

_“I know so.” Mabel spread her arms wide. “Awkward sibling hug?”_

_Dipper smiled and spread his arms wide, too. “Awkward sibling hug.”_

_The two hugged and then patted each other’s backs with a “Pat, pat.”_

 

“Hehe. Those were the good times. Those bullies may have been a nuisance and a plague, but we never let them stop us! As the years passed, our little pet project was getting better and better–and, admittedly, my obsession.”

Grauntie Mabel smirked. “Oh, yeah. Fun times. Sure I… got into my fair share of trouble. Like when I accented the school bulletin board with some glitter or painted a unicorn mural on the school yard. Actually, that’s where I met Candy and Grenda.”

“Candy and Grenda? As in ‘Old Woman’ Chiu? ‘Growling’ Grenda?” Stanley couldn’t help but interject.

Grunkle Dipper nodded tightly. “Yes. Candy and Grenda.”

Grauntie Mabel gasped. “Oh! You know them? Ohhh! The best pals a gal could have! But more on those two later.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, so, we had it good. I was never the best with homework, so I often made Dipper help me. He was awesome at everything. Homework, school work, studying, concentration, pretty much anything you could think of.” Her smile faltered. “But, uh… heh. Things don’t always stay simple. It’s weird, but… it only took one day to change our lives totally forever. I thought my whole ‘not-wanting-to-grow-up’ phase was bad! Hehe…”

 

_“Pines twins to the principal’s office. Pines twins to the principal’s office,” a woman over the PA called. Dipper, who’d been feverishly scribbling something in his notebook, and Mabel, who’d been doodling a pig and gnawing on a gummy worm, looked up._

_“Wonder what that’s about,” Mabel wondered aloud and looked at her brother. He shrugged._

_When they got to the principal’s office, the lady at the desk paused in filing her nails. “Not you,” she stated to Mabel. “Him.”_

_Mabel looked at them, shrugged, and sat down._

_Dipper walked inside. His parents looked back at him as did the principal. When Dipper sat down, the principal went off in his speech, “If I may speak to you very frankly, Mr. Pines?”_

_“I’ll have it no other way,” Mr. Pines stated._

_“Good. You have two kids,” the principal went on. “One’s incredibly gifted. The other’s sitting outside this room and her name is Mabel.” Dipper glanced back at the door. Mabel, who was not-so-secretly listening in on the conversation, stared at her feet, a frown spreading across her features._

_“What are you saying?” their mother prompted._

_“I’m saying,” The principal stood up and threw his hands in the air. “Your son, Mason, is a GENIUS!” The man pulled out a blue pamphlet accented silver. The three looked over the tri-fold pamphlet in shock and wonder. “Ever heard of East Coast Tech? Best filming and tech college in the country. That’s not to mention a mentorship with a very esteemed professor there.” Dipper looked up at him. His face lit up like a Christmas tree. It was a surprise he wasn’t glowing. “The admissions team is visiting tomorrow to check out Mason’s experiment. Your son may be a future millionaire.”_

_Mr. Pines smiled. “Really?” He looked over at Dipper, who was now engrossed in the pamphlet again._

_“But what about our little free spirit Mabel?” Mrs. Pines prompted._

_“That clown?” the principal scoffed. By now, Mabel was at the door, her ear pressed against the glass. “She’s a ditz, a dreamer. She’ll be lucky to make_ anything _out of her life. Mason’s goin’ places. But hey, look on the bright side: at least you’ll have one kid here forever.” Mabel sat down and bundled up in her pink kitten-with-a-bowtie sweater. She put a hand to her cheek. A heart sticker stuck to her face. All this time she thought she was being charming… but she was actually just a big joke._

_She heard something hit the desk inside._

_Dipper’s hand ruffled a paper on the desk as he slapped his hand onto the wood. The principal’s wide grin left him. His parents turned to him in shock. “You know Mabel’s right outside this door! You know she can hear you.”_

_The principal sat back. “This isn’t about her, Mason. This is about you.”_

_“Then don’t talk about her like that.” Dipper removed his hand from the table and looked down at the pamphlet again._

_Mabel and Dipper sat on the teeter totter. Due to age and growth, their knees were bent and heels up so that the teeter totter was more stable. Dipper, being the taller of the two, held more of the weight. Dipper held the pamphlet in his hands._

_“Heh.” Mabel folded her arms on her lap and looked up at Dipper. “Guess, uh… guess you really told that principal off.”_

_Dipper grinned at her. “I can’t have anyone ragging on my Marbles! That’s my job!”_

_“Shut up!” she laughed and punched him in the shoulder. He winced but didn’t lose his smile. She turned her gaze to the park lake. “So, about the apprenticeship, huh?”_

_Dipper looked down at the pamphlet again, as if he hadn’t studied every inch of it three times over. “Yeah. This… Mabel, I never would’ve thought…”_

_“It’s been your dream since we were kids,” Mabel agreed. “But it’s all the way across the country.”_

_Dipper frowned and turned to the lake as well. “Yeah, guess it is. Heh.” He smiled again. “I probably should leave the trailer with you, eh?”_

_“What? Our lab?” Mabel squawked. “Nah, bro! You take it. It’ll give you all the more reason to visit us.”_

_“I don’t know if I’ll have the time,” Dipper admitted._

_“If you don’t visit us at least every holiday and birthday and everything else, I will totally send you a glitter package.”_

_Dipper groaned. “I just got rid of the one from_ last _year!”_

_Mabel laughed. “Exactly!” A sudden thought came to her head. “So… speaking of the trailer… what about our mission? To go across the country and film the paranormal and stuff?”_

_Dipper chuckled and took a deep breath. “Oh, right. Well, we’re not going to be in college forever. Plus, with this new degree, we can go wherever we need to and no one can stop us!” Mabel smiled at that. Dipper got up and walked off. Her smile faded a bit._

_Mabel’s end sank to the ground as Dipper’s was lifted._

 

Mabel shrugged. “I dunno. After that I just… lost some steam. It was bad enough we were growing Up and leaving all our childhood behind. It was even worse that Dipper was going to the other side of the country. I mean, I had to go to college, too. I just thought that we’d be going to the same college. We’d take a few classes together. I’d go to his dorm and force him to eat because he could go days without food or sleep if I let him. Well, I guess not food. He liked to eat his shirt whenever he goes without sleep for a while.” She grinned back at him. Grunkle Dipper looked back at her, a small smile on his features. “Ah, but I guess it was whatever. I mean, after that, the coolest thing _did_ happen.”

 

_Dipper and Mabel sat on the couch together. Mabel was part of the way done knitting a purple sweater with a gray kitten on it. Dipper read a mystery book. Although the TV was on, neither of them paid attention to it._

_“Mabel!” the sudden yell came from downstairs. The twins perked up._

_“Yeah, Mom?” Mabel called back._

_“Get down here!”_

_Mabel made a weird face. Neither of them could detect anger, but “get down here” never led to anything good._

_Mabel, Dipper at her side, slunk into the kitchen. Their mother and father sat at the table. The twins followed suit. “So,” their mother stated. “-do you know what I just got in the mail?”_

_Mabel thought for a moment. “Uh… dogs with hats?”_

_Their mother shook her head, though she couldn’t wipe off the small smile that was forming. She handed her a letter. “For you.”_

_Mabel took the letter. Her eyes grew round in wonder. “Academy of Art” was written in curly letters. Dipper’s eyes widened as well. Mabel tore open the letter and took out the first paper. “Blah, blah, blah… arty school stuff… San Francisco… I… oh my gosh.” She giggled like a maniac. “They let me in! I’m going to be an art student in San Francisco!”_

_Dipper wrapped his arms around her in a hug. “Congratulations! Now_ I _have to worry about ever seeing you again.”_

_“As if!” Mabel laughed back and looked up at him. “I mean, I might have to tone down the weekly dose of sweaters to monthly, but there’s no way I’m letting you get away that easy!”_

 

“Everything was falling into place.” Mabel smiled. “The future was coming for us all.”

Stanley gasped, “Oh, man! Here I thought something really bad would happen.”

“Yeah like you’d accidently wreck his chances of going to college and then have to leave each other,” Stanford scoffed.

“How silly!” Grauntie Mabel agreed. “I’d never ruin anything of Dipper’s.”

“Even if she did, I’d never choose college over my own sibling.”

Grauntie Mabel scoffed, “As if we even had the chance to even think about that! We both got to go to our dream colleges! My school was absolutely amazing, of course. There was art _everywhere!_ I didn’t get in half as much trouble there then I did in high school. In fact, people _paid_ me to paint murals and decorate things. I became head of the decorating committee and, for once, got straight A’s in more than one of my classes! Unfortunately, Dipper got so caught up in his studies that he _accidentally_ forgot to visit us a few times.” She put the word “accidentally” in finger quotes. “So, I, uh, _accidentally_ sent him a glitter package.”

“It took _weeks_ ,” Grunkle Dipper agreed, a scowl coming to his face.

Grauntie Mabel giggled. “Yeah, well, you got me back, good. I send him a letter packed full of glitter so tight it explodes when opened, and he sends me a slimy letter thing. Ew. It was disgusting. A bug jumped out at me, I swear. But, you know, it wasn’t all bad. I sent him letters every week and a sweater every month. He sent me letters back every week and a video recording every month.”

Stanford looked at Dipper. “How did your dream school go?”

“Well,” Dipper answered. “I bounced from subject to subject. My primary target was getting a degree in filming so I could make my own ghost hunting show. But I took many other classes outside of that to learn more about the paranormal. I minored in astronomy, thought it was going to be useful down the road. My mentor was very strict and tough and rarely gave out anything but a ‘you could do better’ or ‘do you call that a project?’ I was beginning to think he couldn’t smile. In fact, I was starting to regret the apprenticeship. Then, one day, when I finished up a project, he turned to me and said with a smile so faint I could hardly see it, ‘okay job’. You wouldn’t think that was much, but it was the world.”

A smile flitted over his features. “But it occurred to me, most of the way through school, that I had no clue where I’d start my career. Was I going into a business? Was someone else going to be my boss? Would I go into a film crew and help make corny movies? I didn’t like the idea, but it would’ve paid more bills. Or would I get to actually go and film something worthwhile? I decided to choose making my own ghost hunting show. So, I went across the country, hunting down paranormal spots and searching for ghosts.”

“Meanwhile, your great aunt was doing awesomely!” Grauntie Mabel agreed. “I got fancy recommendations and I got to go to art shows. But, that was my time in college. Hehe. Everything was looking bright. I had a special art degree. It was going to be a great time! We were heading out on our own.”

“For the first time,” Grunkle Dipper agreed. “I might have gone to college all the way across the country, but sometimes it felt like I was still in our living room with Mabel just feet away ready to pounce if I ever went to sleep late or skipped a meal. I used my grant money to start my investigations.”

Their smiles faded. Grauntie Mabel nodded. “Yep. We, uh… didn’t live the dream together, as we were expecting. Dipper was going out to hunt ghosts. But I was already settled down as a tailor and occasional mural artist. Actually, I settled down in Gravity Falls, Oregon–right here in this little town! Candy was here and so was Grenda, so it only made sense.”

“I wasn’t about to stay in one place,” Grunkle Dipper agreed. “It wasn’t easy, but I was determined. I lived in that trailer for a very long time. I spent any money I received on my equipment and food. Things were… well, things were looking like a bust. I found the occasional paranormal creature. That would give me quite a bit of research to do and then episodes to film. But the pickings were slim. Most of the stories I hunted down were myths or spooky stories. I had to move outside the country often, sometimes running into… _unsavory_ people.” Grunkle Dipper glared at the ground. “Meanwhile, Mabel was in the epicenter of weirdness.”

Grauntie Mabel winced. “Yeah. I… Gravity Falls is a weirdness magnet, you could say. I heard these legends and I kinda wanted to see for myself what everything was about. When I found it, well… I started shifting my tailoring to chasing down monsters.”

 

_Mabel lay on her stomach on her light pink bed. Crafting supplies scattered about her messy room. Before her was a long, very thick book. She took a sheet of thin golden paper and cut out a perfect shooting star silhouette. Mabel carefully painted on the colorful stripes. She glued down part of the top cover of a long, pink book and attached the golden paper to it. Then, she drew a sharp, thick letter “one”._

 

“I knew I’d need to record absolutely everything. So, I began to keep a special scrapbook collection…”

“The scrapbooks!” Stanford gasped and then cleared his throat when he became aware people had turned their attention on him. “Er, sorry.”

Grauntie Mabel glanced at him. “Okay? So, I began to keep a special scrapbook. There were paranormal creatures everywhere. The more I looked, the more I saw. The more I saw, well, the more fun I had and stories I told at the local diner. Dipper kept a little something, too.”

Grunkle Dipper nodded. “I made a journal. But I also kept a video log of everything I saw around the world. You kids didn’t know it existed because I keep it locked up.” His gaze flicked to Stanford. “You might have found one of my stashes, kid, but I’m too good at hiding things.” Stanford gained a sheepish smile and shifted from foot to foot.

Grauntie Mabel began again, “I thought we were only staying for a while. Gravity Falls wasn’t supposed to be a _permanent_ place. I, uh, was going to tell Dipper about it, eventually. After all, his nerd brain would get all types of other paranormal creatures here!”

 

_Mabel chased floating eyeballs with a net and camera._

_She found a light blue egg. Mabel put a hand over her mouth to keep from cooing as the egg cracked and the critter hatched. The creature within slipped onto the ground in a mess of goo and egg shell. It’s little arms and legs curled up to its body. The beige critter looked at Mabel’s cup with round purple eyes. It changed into an exact duplicate of the cup._

_Mabel interviewed a grizzled gnome in their house. As she measured it, she spoke. “What did you say your name was, again?”_

_“Shmebulock. Senior,” the gnome croaked._

 

Grauntie Mabel continued, “But aside from that, my main priority were my friends, Candy and Grenda! Dipper, too, of course. As the years past, I got really curious about where all these creatures were coming from. So, I thought I’d start looking into it. I thought that maybe there were only monsters here and Nowhere else because there was some sort of gateway to another dimension. But I couldn’t do it alone. I wasn’t a mechanic or anything. Lucky for me, Candy’s the best girlfriend ever and offered to help me build this portal. She was amazing, of course. An absolute mechanical genius, one of the smartest and weirdest gals I knew!”

Grunkle Dipper hunched his shoulders and stared at the ground at the mention of Candy. The trio of boys stared at her with round eyes. Grauntie Mabel’s smile dropped as she saw their reaction. “Wh-what? What happened? Did I say something?”

Grunkle Dipper muttered, “Later.”

Grauntie Mabel frowned and sighed. “Okay. But finally came the day to test it.”

 

_Mabel and Candy held a resting dummy on a rope. They stayed behind the yellow and black line. The portal frothed and swirled. Mabel stated, her voice loud and clear, “Ready, and… go.” She released the dummy. Candy did the same. The dummy floated toward the portal. The closer it got, the faster it traveled. Candy gasped and then yelled as the rope caught her ankle and dragged her to the portal._

_“What? Oh no! I got you!” Mabel grabbed the rope. The rope went taut. Candy, most of her body already through the portal, was now only inside of their dimension by her foot. Mabel, grunting and heaving in the effort it took, stepped back and dragged her out of the portal. Once she was out, the portal hissed and calmed. Candy and the dummy flopped to the ground, utterly still and connected to Earth’s gravity._

_Mabel ran to her side and patted her shoulder. Candy’s bulging eyes gazed up at the ceiling. Candy’s pupils were so wide, Mabel couldn’t see the color of her irises. “What’s wrong? Candy, are you alright? Talk to me!”_

_Candy, gasping, sat up straight. “VOTMZRIG IVSKRX OORY.”_

_“Candy?” Mabel recoiled. Her voice went soft._

_“When Gravity Falls and Earth becomes Sky, fear the Beast with Just One Eye,” Candy babbled on and shut one of her eyes._

_“Candy, come on! Snap out of it! You’re not making any sense!” Mabel put a hand on her shoulder._

_Candy flinched and jerked away from her. She put her hand on her own shoulder as if her touch burned. “This machine is way too dangerous! You have to destroy it!”_

_Mabel shook her head. “I can’t destroy this. This is our greatest work!”_

_Candy stood up. “No. No, I can’t be part of this. We’ve unleashed a horror here.” She spat something in Korean and stalked off._

_Mabel hopped to her feet and glared after her retreating research assistant and best friend. “Well, fine! I don’t need you anyway! I’ll get this running on my own, you’ll see!” Whispering hissed in her ear and echoed off the metal walls and slick machines. Mabel jumped. “What? What’s that? Who’s there?”_

 

Grauntie Mabel shut her eyes. “I… was in over my head. I was afraid I was losing it. So, I did the only thing I could: called Dipper.”

Grunkle Dipper nodded. “Oh, that she did.”

 

_Dipper sat in his trailer, eyes narrowed at the computer screen as he blurrily looked through videos from the day prior. Someone knocked on the back door. Dipper jumped. “Uh-uh! I was just leaving, I swear!” Something slid between the window and the wiper. Dipper opened the door and snatched the post card. It was from Oregon. He flipped it over. “PLEASE COME- MABEL”._

 

_Dipper drove through the snow and ice in his old blue car, his trailer tugging behind him. He bundled up in his heavy winter clothes. He looked about. “What in the…?” The place… wasn’t what he expected. As he drove through the tall picket fence lined with barbed wire, he began to wonder if this was even the right house. Regardless, he parked by a pretty pink motorcycle covered in stickers, passed a few signs screaming at him to go away, and approached the door. He checked the address on the card and then the house and knocked on the frozen wooden door._

_There was a short scramble and the door swung open. Dipper gasped and backed away. Standing just a foot away from him, a loaded crossbow in her trembling fingers, was a woman who resembled Dipper quite a bit. She resembled his sister, but Mabel never had that weird, crazed look in her eyes nor was her hair ever disheveled and frazzled in such a manner._

_“Who is it?!” she demanded. “Why are you here?!” When Dipper didn’t answer–and she got a good look at his face–she dropped the weapon and tackle-hugged her brother. “Dipper!”_

_Dipper immediately returned the hug. “Mabel! Mabel, what happened?”_

_Mabel pulled him inside and shut the door. “S-something bad, Dipper.” She let go of him and looked him in the eyes. “I’m really, really,_ really _super sorry! I-I should’ve told you before b-but! But I-I–I have to show you.” She turned and ran off. Dipper followed. As he did, he looked around. The place he was in… looked like it could’ve been Mabel’s. The walls were covered in artistic pieces and there were plenty of statues and boxes with sweaters and cute little animal bobbles and pictures. In fact, he spotted a picture of her holding what looked like a cat with devil horns, a spade-tipped tail, and wings. The dust that covered the disheveled place was definitely_ not _Mabel. The way her sweater hung over her dirty features was_ not _Mabel._

_“Who did this to you?” Dipper hurried forward so that he could take her shoulder. She paused as he grabbed her. “Mabel, what happened? Who hurt you?” The sudden thought of someone–anyone–hurting his sister made him feel a hate hotter than the Mexican sun._

_Mabel’s eyes glinted in the dampness that proceeded tears. “I-I have to show you something, Dipper. You wouldn’t believe me if I just told you.” With that, she darted over a pile of broken glass. Dipper was forced to follow._

_Dipper stared at the machine before them in stunned silence. Spanning wall to wall, floor to ceiling was a metal triangle with a hole in the center. Glimmering symbols set deep around the circle and dim balls of light lined the metal sides of the triangle. “What the…?”_

_“It’s a portal,” Mabel explained. “It was supposed to be a good portal that lead into a dimension that would bring happiness into ours. You know, fix the world’s problems and make everyone good again. B-but it didn’t. Bill lied to me! He tried making me open this portal so that_ he _could come through!”_

_“Bill?” Dipper’s attention snapped to her. “The triangle guy?”_

_Mabel nodded. “Yeah. The triangle guy. He told me that if I made this portal we could do good things! B-but he lied and now this portal could destroy the universe! I need your help to shut it down!”_

_“You–okay. Okay. This is doable.” Dipper took a deep breath. He couldn’t get mad at her, not now. “Where are the schematics for the portal?”_

_“Um…” Mabel looked away. “I, uh, I don’t know how it works. But I got a lot of the progress in my scrapbooks!”_

_“What do you mean you don’t know how it works?! You built it!”_

_“I didn’t build it, Candy did! I only got ideas or whatever! I left the whole building thing to her!”_

_“Go grab your scrapbook. I’ll see if any of these machines make sense.”_

_“Got it!” Mabel darted out of the room and launched herself into the elevator._

_Dipper, meanwhile, looked over the control panel. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and made his hands damp. “Erg! I was a digital media major!” he shouted at the absolute mess of buttons, levers, wires, and blinking lights presented to him. “If there is a god in the world, let him be known,” Dipper mumbled as he looked through the desks for books on the subject. Some of Mabel’s art supplies and Candy’s possessions were stuck in shelves and desks. He drew out books concerning robotics, physics, and anything with the phrase “Trans-dimensional Portal” or “Supernatural”._

_By the time he stacked the books on the desk shadowed by a curtain at the far end of the room, Mabel was back with a rather large scrapbook. It was pink and glinted in the light. A golden star with a “1” inscribed in it followed by streaks of purple, teal, and orange stamped on the front._

_Mabel set down the scrapbook. “Okay, so, we should be able to find some progress on this.”_

_Dipper attacked the book and immediately flipped through the pages. “There has to be something here… something… Anything! Dammit! Where are Candy’s notes?”_

_“I don’t know!” Mabel burst back, her tension and anxiety mixing in a sick tango in her head. “She wrote down a bunch of notes and stuff in my scrapbooks, though.”_

_“Scrap_ books _?”_

_“Yeah. The machine was too big to put in one scrapbook, so I put it in two more. I, uh, panicked and hid the other two. But the shut-down should be in this one!”_

_Dipper stopped. “There! Okay, I see a shutdown sequence…”_

_“The keys!” Mabel yelled and ran through the door to the portal room. It opened immediately._

_“Wait! Wait, Mabel!” Dipper ran after her, the scrapbook clutched in his hands. “We have to be careful!” His round eyes fell on the portal. The thing was_ enormous. _He felt… small. The thing loomed over them like a monster ready to devour or crush them. That symbol looked so familiar it was… it was_ him. _The monster that caused all this. “Mabel, get back here!”_

_Mabel turned around and ran to his side. “Give me the scrapbook! I have an idea! I think we can–!”_

_“No!” Dipper held the now closed scrapbook back. “We have to think about this logically! This room is too dangerous to be in!”_

_“You don’t understand!” Mabel grabbed the scrapbook. “Just for a second! Then we can shut the entire thing down!”_

_Dipper pulled back on the book. Their excited, fear-born squabble turned into a tug-of-war in the most dangerous place either of them could imagine. “We’ll think of it later, we can’t be here!”_

_“Of course we can, the turn-off switch is in here!”_

_“WHY IS THE TURN-OFF SWITCH IN HERE?!”_

_“IT WAS A GOOD IDEA AT THE TIME!”_

_Their argument grew worse and worse as they tripped and stumbled over each other. Dipper led them into the control room, outside of the portal. Mabel tried to gain leverage against her stronger brother by setting a foot on his chest and pushing. Dipper’s fingers slipped. He fell back into the control panel, where a white-hot symbol glowed. His winter coat and dull red shirt burned away and the flesh and skin on his left shoulder blade sizzled. The God-awful stench of burning human flesh immediately replaced any dull scent of dust that clung to the place. The unholy scream that tore itself out of his throat made Mabel scramble back, her eyes round in terror and fresh guilt._

_Dipper pushed himself away from the wall, a trembling hand on his shoulder. The nerves on his shoulder burst in a cacophony of electric signals of pain to his already overstimulated mind. Mabel, whimpering apologies, tried to take his hand. He pushed her away. Mabel stumbled backwards, hitting a lever in the portal room as she went. Dipper dragged himself to his feet and stumbled into the portal room, his tongue now bleeding as he bit himself to muffle his pain._

_Mabel scrambled to her feet. The tips of her shoes touched the gold and black danger line. “Oh my God, Dipper! I’m so sorry!”_

_Dipper stopped by the cranked lever. He took a deep breath and held onto the thing as he nearly fell over again. “Mabel, I-” The portal hissed. The symbols glowed. The portal blazed in bright white light. Suddenly, Mabel’s shoes were no longer on the danger line._

_“Oh no. No! No, Dipper!” Mabel screamed and thrashed as she was sucked in toward the portal._

_Dipper’s eyes went wide. The lever! Should he pull back the lever or take the keys on the side of the wall or–Mabel’s pleading snapped him out of his haze. He jumped off the concrete floor and grabbed her by the wrist. “Come on!” He growled, one eye shut tight and teeth gritting together. Unfortunately, the weight of both of them didn’t slow them or break the new gravity._

_Mabel looked back at the frothing portal and then to her injured brother. Tears slipped past her into the increasingly bright portal. She shoved her scrapbook into Dipper’s hands and kicked him with all her might._

_Dipper was thrown back–not far enough to escape, but far enough to grab the lever and stabilize himself. There was no way he was doing that without his sister. But, when he tried to chase after her again, he could see nothing but white as the last bit of his sister disappeared into the frothing white._

_The portal exploded._

_Dipper woke up on the floor. The scrapbook was a foot or so away. Clattering to the metal floor before the portal was a pair of Mabel’s knitting needles, the pair Dipper had gotten her for their birthday. He scrambled over to the thing and picked it up._ “Best Siblings For Life” _scrawled in neat, small letters along the side. Dipper’s eyes watered. He ran to the scrapbook and flipped through it again. Nothing, nothing, nothing! Pictures of the portal and diagrams filled some of the pages, but they weren’t nearly enough. They only showed_ part _of the portal’s design, mainly the shut-down sequence. “Continued on Volume 2” scribbled on the very last page with a picture of a new scrapbook, identical to this one save for the black “2” on the cover._

_Dipper looked up at the portal. It no longer glowed. “Mabel…” He ran over to the portal and banged on the deceptively cool metal. “Mabel, please! I’m sorry! Come back!” He knew the action would not draw anything but fresh pain in his fists and his already sore throat. The portal wouldn’t reactivate because he hit it or asked it to turn on._

“I lost her,” Grunkle Dipper explained, his eyes on the ground before him. “We separated for a while so that I could make my own ghost hunting show and… and I ignored the warning signs. She was gone into some insane portal where she could be d–injured or in some distant galaxy. I knew that somewhere in her scrapbooks or the books or stray notes left behind there had to be _something._ I was going to get her back, one way or the other.” His eyes grew hard. “I was not losing her again. Her notes did me no good. I had To either find the last scrapbooks or do it on my own. I didn’t get much sleep that night, or the night after. A few days later, it occurred to me: Mabel had a partner. We’d been friends since elementary school. In fact, Mabel said she moved to Oregon to be closer to her and Grenda. If anyone in the world knew how this portal worked and how to fix it, it was Candy.”

_Dipper picked up the house phone and, after two mess-ups, finally called Candy. The phone rang a few times. Eventually, the ringing stopped with a final buzz. He tried it a few more times, but no such luck came to him. It was always replaced that stupid, annoying buzz that marked the call’s failure to go through._

_Dipper, determined and grief-stricken, hopped into his car and started down to town. His shoulder still stung if he put pressure on it. He didn’t bother patching his hood, so the brand he’d gotten was open to the freezing air of Oregon’s winter._

_Dipper went about town, asking about Candy. All he got were confused stares and shaking heads. When Dipper walked into a diner to possibly find Candy or someone who might know her, he nearly ran face-first into Grenda. For a moment, the two stared at each other, dumbstruck by the sudden appearance of their long-time-no-see friend. Dipper spoke first. “Grenda! Have you seen Candy?”_

_Grenda’s eyes narrowed. “No. Where’s Mabel?”_

_“Mabel? She…” Dipper choked on his words. What should he say? Oh, he hadn’t thought this through. Oh, no._

_“Dipper!” Grenda barked. “Where are my best friends?”_

_Dipper took a step back. “I don’t know! I-I’m asking you!”_

_“Look, my two best friends in the whole world go missing. The last time I heard either of them, they were acting crazy. Then,_ you _show up! The last thing Candy talked about was Mabel. The last thing I heard Mabel talk about was_ you! _Where. Are. They?”_

_Dipper backed up some more. Every patron of the diner was staring at the two. “Grenda I-I don’t know! I’m looking for them! Please, I need to find them. I don’t know what happened. I didn’t have anything to do with any of this.”_

_“You’re lying.”_

_Dipper was outside now. “What? No, I’m not. Grenda, listen to me. This is crazy! We need to–”_

_Dipper was cold, that much he knew. His nose might be frost bitten. The blood on his face was dried up and frozen. Little snowflakes clung to his coat and pants. Dipper put a hand to his head and sat up. Ugh. Grenda had an awful punch. Dipper had been on the receiving end of a few blows, mainly from drunken or angry men Dipper had been led to by people who had witnessed some strange activity. Still, nothing was quite like Grenda._

_He stumbled to the nearest gas station to wipe off his face and warm himself up a bit. Dipper looked in the mirror. He was flushed, and his nose bruised and a bit crooked. Blood dried on one cheek as his head was tipped to the side after being knocked unconscious. After washing himself off, Dipper managed to straighten out his nose and gathered quite a few paper towels to stop the blood from flowing freely._

_He stalked over to the front counter. “Hab eiber of you seen Candy? Black hair, rounb glasses? Late twenties, thirties maybe? Korean?”_

_The cashier shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. Do you need to go to the hospital? That really looks bad.”_

_Dipper pushed himself away from the counter. “No, I’b fine.”_

 

Grunkle Dipper sighed. “I tried for weeks to get that stupid portal open. I tried calling Candy’s husband, but he said he hadn’t seen her, either. The last phone call they got was Candy asking about how well Tate was doing on his first day of school. She was shaky and sounded weird. Ugh. Without the other two scrapbooks or Candy, trying to open the portal was fruitless. Eventually, I ran out of food. I had no choice but to go into town again.”

 

_Dipper, shabby and disheveled and wearing one of his spare winter hoodies, walked into the Dusk-2-Dawn convenience store. A few teens were dancing to some awful music outside. Dipper idly plucked a loaf of bread off the shelf and put it on the counter._

_Ma looked up at him and smiled despite his ragged appearance and the cheap store-bought cast on his nose. “Just the bread, then, there, stranger? That’ll be ninety-nine cents.”_

_Dipper stuffed his hand into his pocket. He pulled out stray lint, a paper clip, and a penny. Dammit. He’d spent so much on his expedition, he forgot the money he spent on his new nose cast was the last of it._

_“Hey!” a voice piped up behind him. Dipper turned around. “Aren’t you that mysterious scientist that lives in the woods?”_

_The people within started to gather into a crowd and mutter amongst themselves. Dipper hunched his shoulders, causing his hood to fall more snuggly over his face, and looked around him. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. He still didn’t have an excuse for Mabel! He really didn’t want to get decked again._

_A young portly man, who Dipper would later find out was Thompson Determined, nodded. “I’ve heard strange things about that old shack.”_

_“Yeah!” A lanky blonde teen dressed up in a “training employee” shirt walked up to the front of the crowd. His nametag stated “NATE”. “Mysterious lights and spooky experiments!”_

_“Gosh!” Pa, the co-owner of the store, exclaimed. “I’d pay anything to see what kind of shenanigans you get up to in there.”_

_Nate grinned. “Oh, me too! Do you ever give tours?”_

_Dipper shook his head. “No! No, really, I…” Dipper looked down at the contents of his pocket. He closed his gloved hand, pulled down his hood, and put on a nervous smile that would soon become his signature, pre-show smile. “Actually, I think I can!”_

_“Mabel?” the first word came from somewhere near the front. The boy reddened and looked at his feet as he realized the person who looked like their neighborhood sweet-heart was a male._

_Dipper chuckled. “No, no. I’m not Mabel. Hehe.”_

_“Where is she?” the boy prompted._

_“She’s, uh, she’s not here right now. But! She, uh, said I could in fact give you a tour! For, uh, ten dollars a person!” Damn, dude. Ten dollars? Your shows wouldn’t make five dollars a per–Dipper’s eyes grew round as he watched the crowd cheer and take out the requested cash._

_Dipper opened the door to the Shack, revealing its cluttered inside. He gestured around the place as people walked in. Dipper choked on his words. Oh, God. What was he going to say? He wasn’t good in front of live crowds. Sure, a camera was okay, but–no! Shut up, Dipper! Just do what Mabel would do! She’s great in front of crowds! “Welcome to a world of, uh, enchantment!” He chuckled and stopped by the end of the room. “Pretty neat, right? Monsters and ghosts and science equipment! Like, uh, this box!” He gestured to a box with two antennae. Electricity jumped between the tips. “It’s a perpetual electricity machine, designed to fuel its own electricity by harnessing itself! Neat, right?”_

_Grenda leaned forward to look over the machine. “Is this really what Mabel was getting into…? Agk!” She jumped as the electricity jumped form one wire to her eye. The afflicted eye lid fluttered and closed. “My eye!”_

_Dipper held out his hands. “That’s in no way permanent, I assure you.”_

_Grenda grumbled, a hand over her eye. “I spent ten dollars on_ this? _” The crowd behind her mumbled their agreement._

_“No! Uh, yes, but, no.” Dipper looked about. “Um… hey, you’re, uh, lucky you weren’t the last group.” He pulled out a taxidermy kitten with devil horns, wings, and a spade tipped tail. A human arm bone was in its little paws and saber-toothed jaws. “They didn’t make it out alive! Ooooh! Heh?” The crowd ooh’d and took a better look at the creature. A kid in the front squeaked his delight at such a cute and fuzzy animal, though many others admired its devilish features and the arm bone in its mouth._

_“Uh, you can take your picture with it!” Dipper offered. “For, uh, free with your first tour.”_ “And not getting the police involved. Sure.” _Dipper thought to himself._

Dipper went on, his voice solemn. “So, I came up with a plan. I couldn’t leave this shack until I figured out how to save Mabel. But I needed to pay the mortgage somehow. Thus, the Mystery Shack was born!” Upon seeing the confused looks that the boys gave him, he backtracked. “For the first five years I was here, I studied the paranormal events and set up shop here for people to see them. But after a while, I saw the terrifying beasts that lived here. Turns out _real_ magic freaks people out. I got really close calls with people, uh, getting _freaked out_. Turned two people insane, actually. So, using the money I’d gotten from the rush of excitement at the beginning as well as my knowledge on space, I quickly changed this place into a planetarium-slash-museum with a gift shop and renamed it the _Space Shack._ ”

Grunkle Dipper smiled. “I finally found something I was good at doing. By day and evening, I was the star of the show. But at night, I was in the basement, trying to bring Mabel back. I… couldn’t risk anyone learning about my plans and sabotaging it. So, I lied to everyone. My parents, your parents, you guys–everyone. Mabel was… traveling, which wasn’t a _complete_ lie. She vanished. Being her twin, I forged her signature in letting me own the house since she was never at home.”

Dipper sighed and rubbed his arm. “But, uh… there was one more thing. I wasn’t a scientist. I didn’t have special clearance or allowance. But I needed to get materials and knowledge. So, I gave myself a fake name and fake IDs, things that weren’t traceable. If any real scientists–or, God forbid, the government–found out about this _doomsday device_ , I’d never get the chance to save her.”

Fiddleford hesitated. “All this time, you were just tryin’ to save yer sister?”

Stanley shook his head. “I’m sorry, Grunkle Dipper. I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

“That’s okay, Stanley. I wouldn’t have believed me either.”

Upstairs, a voice barked, “I heard talking! It was coming from downstairs!”

“Oh no!” Grunkle Dipper gasped. “It’s too late!”

Stanford tensed. “What do we do?”

Stanley groaned. “Ugh! I was so distracted by your awesome story I forgot they were here!”

Fiddleford perked up. “Forgot. Hey, forget! That’s it!” He dug through his backpack and plucked the memory gun from it. “This!”

Stanford gave him a flat look. “Why do you still have that?”

Grauntie Mabel sucked in her breath. “A memory gun! Where did you–later. This is perfect.” She took the gun from Fiddleford and looked it over. “Man, if I could just… somehow make this target radio headsets instead of people…”

Grunkle Dipper held out his hand. “I think I know how to do that.” Once she handed the gun to him, he hooked it up to a few wires in the wall. He looked through a periscope. “…there. Now, everyone! Get down and plug your ears!” Grunkle Dipper commanded and put his hands over his ears. Everyone else in the room ducked and clamped their hands over their ears. Mabel grabbed her alien pet and set his paws on his own drooping ears.

 

Above them, agents swarmed the house. Agent Powers and Agent Trigger stood at the doorway. Agent Trigger announced, “Sir! Looks like there’s a hidden door behind the vending machine!”

“Excellent!” Agent Powers smiled. “Get me on Washington on Line One! I’ve been practicing sounds of excitement for this very occasion. Hey, do you hear that?” The eyes on the top of the totem pole flashed. A sound wave passed over the Space Shack and the yard around it. The agents clapped their hands over their ears and doubled over. Inside of the Shack, more agents and some people in radiation suits gathered near the door, clamped their hands over their ears. One person shut the vending machine as they leaned on it.

Once the commotion died down and the noise was gone, the agents let go and looked around. Agent Powers looked around. “What? Where am I? Why am I standing in front of some sort of goofy astronomy house?”

Grauntie Mabel strode out of the house and stopped on the porch. Her sweater had changed its color and pattern to a suit. She held a few papers in her hands. “Stand down, gentlemen!” She called their attention. “I’ve been sent with the latest intel from Washington.” She flipped through a few of Stanford’s drawings. “According to this report, the power surges in Gravity Falls were actually due to radiation from an unreported meteor shower.” She clicked her tongue. “A total disgrace and embarrassment for your whole department.” She straightened the papers and looked at Agent Powers. “Luckily, I’m here to take this mess off your hands. But I’ll need all of your… floppy disks and a-trax, right?”

Agent Powers, still dazed, stated. “Uh, everything about this case is contained on this drive.” Agent Trigger held out a flash drive labeled “PINES”.

Grauntie Mabel wrapped her hand around it. “Well? What are you waiting for? Get out of here before I have your butts court-martialed!”

Agent Powers straightened up. “Uh, yes ma’am. Apologies, ma’am.” He whistled and waved his hand. “False alarm, everyone!” On the way back to his car, he tripped and stumbled.

Once the government agents were gone, Grauntie Mabel knelt and held out the flash drive. Her space-pig, whose shaggy fur was black with white sides to mimic her, honked and took it in his mouth. She stood up straight and looked back once Grunkle Dipper left the house with Stanley, Fiddleford, and Stanford.

Stanley laughed, “That was so cool, Great Aunt Mabel! You gotta teach me to do that!”

Grauntie Mabel chuckled. “Ah, thank you.”

 “So, uh,” Stanford took his pen out from behind his ear and took out a notebook. “-would you mind answering a few million questions about Gravity Falls?”

Grauntie Mabel looked over them. “Well, I…”

“Not now,” Grunkle Dipper finished. “You kids need your rest. It’s been a pretty hectic day. My sister and I have a lot to talk about. Why don’t you kids go ahead and hit the hay?”

Stanford frowned. “But Grunkle Dipper, she’s the _author!_ I’ve been waiting so long to–”

“That wasn’t a request,” Grunkle Dipper cut in. “Go catch some sleep. We’ll talk in the morning, okay? I’ll drive you home tomorrow, Fiddleford.”

Stanford sighed and put away his notebook, “Okay.” The three boys walked back into the house and shut the door behind them.

*          *          *          *          *

Mabel and Dipper stood downstairs. Night had fallen completely over the valley. The two stared at their reflections–or, rather, each other’s reflections. Mabel was noticeably different. Gone was the sleep-deprived, terrified woman Dipper had seen last. Her sweater was able to change color and pattern–it was pink with a golden key at the moment–and her skirt only covered her legs to about her knees, where armored stockings covered everything but her muddy boots. Her hair was tied up in a pretty pink band and she smiled a large, genuine smile, which revealed a golden tooth near the back of her mouth. Even now, after thirty years of separation and hell, she held that same beautiful smile.

Dipper’s gaze traveled to her face, where a few old lines showed places where something had cut into her–deeply–and had healed so well Dipper only knew they were there by focusing on them. God, what other scars did she have? What monsters did she have to fight off, dimensions that she had to go through? Had she been able to eat well, or did she go through times of starvation?

Dipper himself didn’t look too different over the years. He could see Mabel looking over his new outfit, though. It was just his normal navy trench coat speckled with white “stars”. “Nice stars. Make them yourself?” Dipper smiled a crooked, half-smile. He was tempted to say where he’d gotten them–an accident involving a mix-up between house paint and bleach–but decided against it. Mabel chuckled, “When did we become old?”

“You look like Mom,” Dipper commented, a slight smile coming to his lips.

“Nice of you to say, Dad,” Mabel agreed and elbowed him.

Dipper put a hand on his shoulder. His smile faded. “Look, Mabel. I know we need to talk but…”

“We can’t. Not right now,” Mabel agreed. “Because you need to take a shower. Jeez, have you taken a shower since the last time I saw you? You’re a mess!”

“My God, Mabel!” Dipper complained.

“I’m serious! You stink. You need a good shower. Now that you’ve got little look-alikes here, you need to look and act your best. Have you eaten today? Or slept?”

“Calm down!” Dipper raised his hands. “I’m tired, okay? I’m just… tired. But look at yourself, Mabel. Where did those scars come from? Why do you look so pale? Did you grow? What happened to you?”

Mabel nodded. “I get it. I… well, look. It’s a pretty long story.” She lowered her hand and petted the pink space hog by her side. For a fleeting moment, one eye got a gold glint to it. “And I’ll tell you, but it’s…”

Dipper bit his tongue and looked back at the mirror. “Mabel, I don’t think–oof!” Dipper gasped as Mabel wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. He tensed and then, ever so slowly, relaxed.

“I missed you.” Mabel resisted a cough as she buried her face in his dusty chest. Her own body tensed and shivered. One edge of his trench coat brushed her ear. Dipper didn’t seem to mind the dampness that swelled on the chest of his dirty shirt.

Dipper wrapped his arms around her in a hug and shut his eyes. “Me, too.”

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

Stanley stepped away from the door. A confused look passed over him. “I… don’t get it.”

“Are they not mad at each other?” Stanford prompted.

Stanley shook his head. “I don’t think so. I mean, it doesn’t sound like it. I didn’t know Dipper could be really _mad_ at anyone–but Gideon, at least.”

“I don’t think he’s mad,” Stanford agreed. “But… how do we feel? What am I supposed to feel? The author walks through a mysterious portal that Dipper’s been keeping a secret for thirty years? He never even told us that the paranormal was real!”

Fiddleford, sitting next to Stanford, nodded. “He really didn’t. But it’s not because he didn’t trust ya. He jus’ doesn’t want ya gettin’ hurt. You got in plenty a’ trouble on yer own.”

Stanley sat down on his bed across from them. “Yeah, I guess. This is just so _weird…_ ”

Stanford turned to Fiddleford. “So, why did you have that memory gun?”

“Huh?” Fiddleford sat up straight.

“You had the memory gun. Why? Were you planning on using it?” Stanford prompted.

Fiddleford sighed. “It’s complicated, but… but Ah didn’t want anyone hurt. Ah don’t know too much about the sit’ation, but Ah do know that you three love each other. Ah don’t want anythin’ changin’ that. Ah don’t want to see Mr. Pines taken away by the government, ya know?”

“You were planning to erase the government people’s minds all along, weren’t you?”

Fiddleford nodded. “Mhm.”

“Dude. You’ve never gone against what an adult tells you to do, much the government.”

“Family is more important than any law, Stanley, and loyalty is better than any virtue. You know that.” Fiddleford kicked his feet. “So. What happens now?”

“I don’t know.” Stanford looked at his hands. “Why’d you come back, anyway? We didn’t tell you that you were welcome back or anything.”

“Ah know. Mr. Pines asked me to help, so Ah did. Ah hurt you, and what Ah did was short-sighted and irresponsible. Ah don’t expect ya to forgive me. Ah know Ah wouldn’t. But Ah’m still loyal and Ah still like you two. You deserve the best.”

Stanford smiled at that. He looked up at Fiddleford. But, as he looked into his bright blue eyes, flecked minty green, shining in the light of their lamp, he was reminded of the last time he was forced to look into them, glimmering as blue as fire, as blue as the light of the memory gun. He looked away. “You remember where Susan slept, right? I think we packed up a sleeping bag or whatever there. I’m sure Grauntie Mabel’s taken the spare room.” He lay down and threw the blanket over himself.

Stanley frowned. “Nice cold shoulder you got there, bro! Whatever. Fidds, we can talk more in the morning.” He flopped down in his own bed and threw the blanket over himself. Fiddleford quietly obeyed, finding the sleeping bag promised in the closet.

After a while, Stanley grumbled, “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” Stanford muttered.

“Keeping me up with your thoughts.”

“You know that’s not possible.”

“Of course it’s possible, you’re doing it right now!” Stanley groaned. “We’ll deal in the mornin’, okay?”

Stanford sat up. “How can you go to bed, Stanley?! With what just happened? We got arrested, thrown in a car crash, discovered an underground secret lab, and Grunkle Dipper opened a portal into another universe even though he could’ve destroyed everything and killed everyone! Then our long-lost great aunt walks out of that portal with an alien and then they hug and tell a big long sad story and then she gets rid of the government guys and Grunkle Dipper just tells us to go to bed?!”

“I’d’ve done the same, man. Family’s gotta stick together.”

Stanford hesitated. “Wait, you… you would’ve?”

“We’re brothers! Best friends! I’d search for thirty years if I had to if you decided to build a crazy portal and then get lost in it. Besides, with Fidds helping, we’d have gotten it done way faster. Like, weeks at most.”

“If he hadn’t been in that Society and possibly driven himself insane, that is.”

Stanley frowned. “Dude, he helped us! You saw him. We wouldn’t have been able to active the shut-down sequence or whatever without him! We didn’t need it, but still.”

“Why are you so persistent?”

“Because you’re fighting like an old married couple and you aren’t even married or old yet! It stinks because you’re miserable and you’re my best friend. You spend way too much time at home, now. I was real jealous of you hangin’ out with Fidds all the time but now you never do and it’s just like in New Jersey and I don’t want it to be just like New Jersey because we’re in Gravity Falls and it’s different. And you guys are best friends and he was being stupid, and you were, too, and I was and _ugh!_ ” He flopped back onto his bed. “Why do you guys have to be so frustrating?!”

A moment of silence tailed his huffy rant.

Stanford looked at Fiddleford, who was sitting up and watching them. “…you almost erased our minds.”

“Ah know.” Fiddleford looked at his hands. “An’ not a day goes by that Ah don’t think of it. Ah was tryin’ ta help, but Ah was doin’ more harm than good.” He paused. “But Ah’m a coward. Ah found the Society two years ago by accident, near the time Ah had ta leave ma home in the South. They were family, Stanford. They accepted me. Ah had no choice but ta think highly of ’em. Really, Ah swear Ah didn’t know it’d hurt anyone. That’s why Ah stayed! Ah-Ah erased everythin’ about it, too. After ya’ll left, Ah destroyed everythin’.”

“Everything but that _weapon._ ”

“Stanford, be honest with me: how good are you at trickin’ government agents inta lookin’ elsewhere? Even if it’s not goin’ ta be used fer its original purpose…” He took a deep breath. “But fine. Ya make a good case.” He opened his backpack beside him and pulled out the memory gun. He got up and walked to Stanford, who sat on the edge of his bed, now. He sat down and held it out for him. “You have it. Do what you want with it.”

“I have it?” Stanford looked at the weapon. _He was… but that would mean… he’s not lying, is he?_

Fiddleford nodded and looked him straight in the eyes. “Ah don’t trust maself with it, not an’more. Stanford, you’re a brilliant mind. Ah trust ya.”

 _He trusts you._ Stanford gently took the weapon from Fiddleford. _He trusts you with a weapon that could destroy him._ The cool metal felt weird against his fingers. The shape of the handle gave him the feel for holding such a mighty weapon. But the frail glass he felt beneath his fingers on the other end of it was a stark contrast. Although dark and innocent now, he knew the evil it had the ability to wreck. But, holding it now, looking down on it and holding the boy’s words in his head, a simple thought came to him. _How?_

“What do ya mean?”

Stanford looked up. Oh. He’d spoken aloud. “How did you do it? Shoot somebody?”

“Ah never did it,” Fiddleford stated, now refusing to meet Stanford’s eyes. “Ah only watched.”

Stanford looked down at the gun. _“What if they’re takin’ away_ bad _memories an’ such?”_ He could recall Fiddleford’s defense of the Society before they learned of his treachery. Then, the realization of a new horror hit him like a train. He looked up at Fiddleford, who watched him with sad, guilty eyes. “You used this on yourself.”

Fiddleford nodded. “Yeah, Ah did.”

Stanley gasped. “ _What?!_ You used that thing on yourself? _Willingly?_ ”

Fiddleford didn’t meet either of their gaze. “Yeah. Look, Ah was desperate! Ah was scared an’ trapped an’ Ah just couldn’t handle it, alright? Ah couldn’t do it, it jus’ wasn’t possible.” He shook his head and snaked his fingers into his hair, inadvertently tearing out a few strands of hair. “No one believed me, not even ma own father! Those monsters were still there, every day, jus’ waitin’ but no one believed me an’ Ah couldn’t stop thinkin’ about them an’, an’–” He cut himself off. Stanford’s arms wrapped around him in a tight hug.

“I believe you.”

Fiddleford sniffled and hugged him back. “Thank ya.”

Stanley scoffed, “Yeah, yeah. Try not to get too sappy, I can feel it from here.”

Stanford looked at Stanley from behind Fiddleford’s head. “You wouldn’t know _sappy_ if you got slapped with it!”

Stanley and Fiddleford both laughed at this.

Stanley flopped back down. “Now would you guys keep it down? I’m tryin’ to sleep.”

Stanford let go. “Yeah, we really should go to sleep.” Stanford got back in a comfortable position by the wall and pulled the rest of the blanket toward himself. “The ground’s pretty hard over there,” he said to the wall. Fiddleford quietly lay down on the edge of the bed, where Stanford gave him the other half of his blanket.

Stanley, once he knew the two were asleep, quietly slipped out of bed and walked around to the foot of the bed. He held up his camera. “Night, lovenerds.”

_Click!_

 

VB! FMVLL MPGR! B SCXX ABR HUY JALLR GV IAX ZNNUZ UARVHR BU NUX IUPD.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Versatile, isn’t he? I know that Dipper would learn skills he wouldn’t normally if it meant helping his sister. Great that Mabel probably learned a whole bunch, too! Now, I’m also very happy to announce Fiddleford’s coming back so I won’t need to exclude him. Eh, betrayal hurt them but at least they’re back together now! Right? Eh, some wounds don’t entirely heal overnight, as you know.
> 
>  
> 
> 4: _Uij Moug Fhvre Pm Otje, Rolllmocaz Zbbnsx Stsf vgai Cehwr. Kpaum?_


	11. Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the humble opinion of many people, DD&MD **i** s a very good game, I’m sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find the Title Card on dA:

Morning light glowed over the sleepy valley, which slowly started to stir. The Space Shack was calm and quiet, though it sagged with the injuries it had suffered the night before. There was a ruckus downstairs.

As the noise downstairs woke him, Fiddleford opened his eyes and sat up, yawning. Stanford opened one eye to look up at him. The morning sun filtered in through the windows and bathed the room in golden light, executing any chance of further sleep.

Bleating in excitement, Gompers hopped on the bed, eager for a new day and for breakfast.

“Early, Gompers. Let me sleep.” Stanford mumbled blearily.

Low and muffled by distance and doors, there was another Noise downstairs. Two voices were downstairs rather than just one. Fiddleford perked up. “Is someone downstairs?”

“Is there?” Stanford sat up. “Gompers, wake up Stanley.” Gompers hopped off the bed and bounced up onto Stanley’s bed.

Stanley, after having Gompers bounce on his shoulder a few times, grumpily relented and got up. “What’s the big idea?” he grumbled. “Why’d you wake me up?”

“Ah think someone’s downstairs,” Fiddleford stated.

“Grunkle Dipper’s supposed to be the only one,” Stanford went on. “Come on!”

“Right. Don’t you think it’s just Grauntie Mabel?” Stanley yawned.

“Eh, right.” Stanford hesitated as the memory of their newest family member popped into his head. “It could be. There’s probably breakfast downstairs, anyway.” With that, he grabbed his day clothes and left.

At this, Fiddleford started for the downstairs as well.

Then, in the kitchen, Grunkle Dipper was cooking pancakes and eggs. Grauntie Mabel, her sweater pink with a large purple puzzle piece on the back and front watched him. “Oh, cool! And you can actually cook?”

Soft fur vibrant pink with a purple puzzle piece on his back and a purple tail tip and ear tufts, the space hog was on his back hooves. One six-toed paw was on the side of the counter and the other was reaching for the empty bowl of pancake batter. Grunkle Dipper started, “Yeah, I–hey!”

“Uh! Waddles! No, get down,” Grauntie Mabel scolded, her voice light and void of any true anger. The space hog honked and fell back onto the floor. He turned his bright blue eyes back to her and honked again. Grauntie Mabel said, “Good morning, boys! Have a nice sleep?”

“Mmm? Kids!” Grunkle Dipper glanced back. “Good morning!”

“Mr. Pines, yes. Good morning,” Fiddleford called back.

“Eck. It’s too early.” Stanley flopped down at the table, blearily looking out the window.

Right beside him was Stanford, Gompers in his arms. “Good morning. We’re awake.” Stanford watched the space hog. He looked over the children and then the goat. Stanford narrowed his eyes and kept a firmer grip on Gompers. “What does your alien eat?”

Cleaning off the mud print Waddles left on the counter lip, Grauntie Mabel replied, “Anything non-meat, really. Even if it’s not edible! Once, he ate the wing of a small spacecraft. Boy lemme tell you, it was hard to get back after that.” Stanley’s eyes lit up. Now they were all perked up and watching their great aunt.

“Aw, cool!” Stanley gasped, “You rode in a spaceship?”

“Really? Where did you go?” Stanford prompted.

Ending the conversation, Grunkle Dipper interrupted them, “Stories can be for later. Right now, let’s have breakfast and calm down a bit.” He flipped the last pancake onto the plate and brought it and the plate of eggs to the table. It was much larger than the breakfast they normally served. How much did he expect them to eat?

Then, Grauntie Mabel looked about. “Hey, kids? Wanna see how I feed Waddles?”

As excited by this as the prospect of stories, the kids nodded. “Yeah!”

“’Kay, kids. Watch and learn.” She smiled and put down a large, metal bowl next to the refrigerator. Multiple symbols probably depicting Waddles’ name dressed the front. Waddles honked and rushed up to her, his tail whipping back and forth. Grauntie Mable held up one finger. Waddles sat still and watched her. Even when she poured a pile of mixed vibrantly colored vegetables, shapes, and leaves that settled in the bowl, Waddles didn’t move. “Okay, Waddles! Star!” Waddles’ fur turned a bright white with a yellow star on his back. His bright gold eyes stared up at her. “Good! Now, have some breakfast.” Waddles shoved his face into the bowl, happily eating the oddly colored plants and shapes.

Entirely done with her pet’s breakfast responsibilities, Grauntie Mabel took a few more pancakes than the rest of them and filled her glass with an odd, sparkly pink drink studded with ice cubes and what looked like a plastic three-headed, two-tailed stegosaurus.

Realistically, the things looked like malformed factory molds. But Stanford knew for a fact that those well-shaped creatures weren’t from Earth.

Stanley tipped his head. “What’s that?”

“This?” Grauntie Mabel held up the glass of pink juice. “This, my dearest boy, is Mabel Juice!” She indicated the blender mostly full of the same juice. “It’s a special recipe I made when I was a kid. Wanna try it?”

Grunkle Dipper grimaced. Stanley held out his cup. “Okay!” He elbowed Stanford. “Come on, bro!”

“Ah, um, no thanks.”

“Don’t be a wimp, Ford. Ford! Ford! Ford!” Stanley chanted.

Grauntie Mabel chanted, “Ford! Ford! Ford!” Eventually, Fiddleford picked up the chant.

Stanford rolled his eyes and held out his cup. “Fine.”

Grauntie Mabel prompted Fiddleford, “How about you, kiddo?”

Fiddleford started to shake his head, but, upon catching the gaze of his best friends, pushed his empty cup over to Grauntie Mabel.

Once Grauntie Mabel poured them all drinks, she shot a sly glance at her brother. Grunkle Dipper sent her a flat look. “No.”

“Suit yourself.” She downed her glass with one gulp. Stanley shoved his brother with a “Come on, wimp!” and downed his glass. Stanford and Fiddleford followed suit.

Grunkle Dipper shook his head and muttered, “Tyrone’s gunna kill me.”

“Tyrone won’t kill you!” Grauntie Mabel teased. “Filbrick will!”

For a split second, nothing happened.

Then, Stanford gagged on his drink. Stanley put his hand over his mouth. Fiddleford winced and, though he looked green in the face, swallowed his part. Grauntie Mabel burst into laughter. “Oh, man! You two look just like your old man!” she snickered. “Oh, Little Filly stopped trusting me after that.”

“‘Little Filly’?” The Stan twins looked at each other.

Grunkle Dipper said, “Yes. Please don’t call him that. He really, really, _really_ hates it. Besides, he’s not really ‘little’ anymore. You know, he’s as tall as me, now.”

“ _Seriously?_ Pictures or I’m not believing it!”

Stanley grinned and started pawing at his pancakes. “Soooo, why do you call him that?”

Grauntie Mabel filled up her glass again. “Okay, so, you know much we love Halloween, right? Er–” She hesitated and then shook herself. “So, you know how much Dippin’ Dots loves Halloween, right? Well, when Little Filly was a kid–oh, five, six–I made him a little horse costume. And he’d wear the thing _everywhere!_ He even had this little dance he’d do.” She gasped. “Oh my gosh! Dipper!” She spun around to face her twin. “We have to visit California! Does he still live there?”

“No, Tyrone moved to New Jersey, remember?”

“Tyrone moved to New Jersey?”

“Yeah. Didn’t you know? It was right after he announced that new job opportunity… in December…” Grunkle Dipper stopped talking. A tense silence fell Over the table.

Grauntie Mabel looked around them. Her gaze fell on Fiddleford. “Hey… wait…” She grinned and glanced at Grunkle Dipper. “Lemme borrow your hat for a second.” She took the blue and white baseball cap off her brother’s head and set it on Fiddleford, pushing his dirty blond hair over his eyes. “Hah! Knew it!” she gave the hat back and straightened out Fiddleford’s hair. “You look just like your father! Tate, right?”

Fiddleford beamed. “Yeah! He’s my dad!”

“Oh! I remember Tate! He was an adorable kid and you are, too! You look so much like him,” Grauntie Mabel cooed. “How’s it going? Do you guys visit often?”

Fiddleford nodded. “Yeah! We visit Tennessee all the time! And we’re doin’ pretty good here. Grandma gave me a wielder for ma birthday an’ Dad’s teachin’ me about the new fishin’ lures he’s bringin’ in.”

“Aw! Candy’s the best teacher, isn’t she? Oh! I just _need_ to meet the girls again! Do they still live here?” Their smiles faded again.

“Um… sorta.” Fiddleford kicked his feet under the table.

Stanley started, “Yeah. She lives in the–” He cut himself off with a huff as Stanford elbowed him.

Stanford nodded. “Mrs. Grendinator works at the diner.”

Fiddleford glanced at them. “Yeah! Ah can get ma grandma an’ we can meet up in the diner today.”

Grunkle Dipper smiled. “Yeah. I’ll find Soos and Wendy.”

Stanley slapped his hand on the table. “I’ll get Dan and Wendy! You get Soos.”

“Yeah!” Grauntie Mabel jumped up. “C’mon, Waddles!” She ran further into the house. Waddles honked and, a vegetable that looked like a purple mini pumpkin in his fanged jaws, bounced after her.

 

Deep morning sunlight lit up the small diner. “Tough Girl” Wendy chatted avidly with Soos. “Old Woman” Chiu listened to Fiddleford as he described his newest trinket and what it would be like. “Growling” Grenda ambled into the aisle, arms laden with food. She stopped by one of the booths housing Janice and Greg.

Grunkle Dipper opened the doors for the kids. Stanley ran in and shouted, “YO, EVERYONE!” All eyes immediately snapped to him. “Get ready for your dreams to COME TRUE!”

Grunkle Dipper hissed, “Stanley!”

“I’m being true!” Stanley said back, his voice still quite loud.

“Growling” Grenda rolled her eye. “Tough Girl” Wendy snickered. “Yeah, you go Stanley! Stick it to the man!”

“Yeah!” Stanley cheered and ran inside, tugging Stanford behind him.

“Hehe! He _is_ just like me!” Grauntie Mabel laughed, shoving Grunkle Dipper’s hat down over his eyes.

_Crash!_

“Growling’” Grenda stared at the Pines twins with wide eyes and an open mouth. A pile of shattered plates and bits of sticky food scattered over her feet. “Old Woman” Chiu’s coffee spilled over her remaining eggs. “Tough Girl” Wendy’s eyes grew wide as moons. Grauntie Mabel’s gaze swept over the room, over the three girls that hadn’t seen their Pines friend in thirty years.

Then, the room exploded into squeals and squeaks that made dogs blocks away yelp in pain.

Grauntie Mabel swept up Candy and hooked an arm around Wendy. Grenda picked them all up with a squeal. “Make room for Grenda!”

Dan ducked and scrambled back. He grabbed Fiddleford by the nape of his shirt and picked him up so that he wouldn’t get trampled. “Uh, Mr. Pines?” Dan looked back. “Who’s she?”

“She is my twin sister, Mabel,” Grunkle Dipper informed him, smiling for the first time they’d seen him around Grenda.

“You have a twin sister?” Dan asked. “I thought you were joking!”

“I’d never joke about that,” Grunkle Dipper scolded.

“Hey, Dipper!” Grauntie Mabel ran up to him. “Guess what!”

“Er, what–?”

“This afternoon, we’re all going out to the middle of nowhere to catch up!”

“To my super haunted logging cabin!” “Tough Girl” Wendy agreed with a whoop.

“We’re going out in the _wild!_ ” “Growling” Grenda agreed.

“This time I will remember the way back!” “Old Woman” Chiu agreed.

“Uh, that’s great!” Grunkle Dipper smiled. “Yeah, but, isn’t that very dangerous? You haven’t been back for an entire twenty-four hours, yet–and you spent half of it asleep!”

Grauntie Mabel shook her head. “Aw, don’t worry! I still know how to live like a person _and_ how to defeat monsters. Besides, _these_ gals have been living here for a long time!”

“I was born here!” “Tough Girl” Wendy announced.

Stanley gasped, “Oh! Oh, can we go with?”

“Fine with me!” Grauntie Mabel replied. “The more the merrier!”

“No! No, absolutely not. No.” Grunkle Dipper shook his head. “No. You’re in your sixties, Mabel. He’s just barely thirteen. They both are.”

Grauntie Mabel crossed her arms. “C’mon, Dipper! We were allowed to wander around when we were there age! Plus, nothing should attack a group like us.”

“I’ll bury them in punches!” “Growling” Grenda agreed.

“I’m gunna wrestle a ghost!” “Tough Girl” Wendy cackled.

Grunkle Dipper chuckled, “Yeah, I get that. But I’d really, _really_ rather the boys stay home. I’d be much more comfortable watching them at the house. Besides, isn’t it a, uh, girl’s night or something?”

Stanley pouted. “C’mon, Grunkle Dipper! The woods are fun! You never let us go out.”

Fiddleford piped up, “Stanley, Ah thought ya’ll were comin’ with Susan, Ivan, an’ Ah to the lake. We were goin’ to boat out in the lake or somethin’?”

Grunkle Dipper nodded. “Yeah! That sounds fine. Maybe, uh, next time or something.”

Grauntie Mabel and Stanley both sighed audibly. “You’re such a spoil-sport!” The two looked at each other and then laughed.

Stanford and Grunkle Dipper exchanged a look. Things… were going to be different.

 

In the end, Grauntie Mabel went out to “Tough Girl” Wendy’s logging cabin with just Candy, Grenda, and Wendy. Grunkle Dipper Did catch Stanley trying to sneak off multiple times. There was no monster on the lake, but Stanford happily dragged Stanley off to play a game of DD&MD with Susan, Fiddleford, and Ivan–who was learning how to play. They found out Grunkle Dipper really loved the game and, as he was showing signs of moping now that his sister was gone, invited him to play. Stanley… hardly participated any more than to give Stanford creative ideas.

“You guys are boring,” Stanley groaned, his voice muffled as he rested his cheek on one hand.

Stanford, who’d just rolled a rather high number and “destroyed the dragon that nearly killed all of them” huffed, “Come on, Stanley! It’s not that bad.”

“Yeah!” Fiddleford piped up, “It’s a real fun game once ya get ta playin’ it!”

“You’re just sayin’ that to agree with your boyfriend,” Stanley grumbled, causing Susan to giggle and Stanford and Fiddleford to glare at him.

Grunkle Dipper patted his shoulder. “Come on, Stanley! If you joined us, I’m sure you’d have fun.”

Stanley sighed, “I’m not into that pen-and-paper sort of stuff. I’m getting dinner.” With that, he got up and stalked off. “Because it’s, you know, dinner time!” He added loudly over his shoulder. “Not that anyone bothered to remember!”

 

The next day, Grauntie Mabel was back in time for lunch. Unfortunately, Grunkle Dipper and Stanford went back to their nerd game. Stanley was left with only his wounded pride and a game he’d already beaten thrice–once regular, once as a speed-run, and once for the achievements–on his gamekid.

Grauntie Mabel, Waddles at heel, walked through the front door. “Huh. Waddles? Did someone kill Stan?”

Waddles hobbled over to Stanley and sniffed him. Stanley pushed the space hog away, laughing as his saber-fanged snout tickled his face. “Waddles!” Waddles turned his head and gave Grauntie Mabel a reassuring honk.

Grauntie Mabel stopped by the chair where Stanley sat upside down. “What’s with the long face, kid?”

Stanley stuck out his tongue. “I’m _bored!_ Grunkle Dipper and Ford are playing some dumb nerd game. Dungeons, Dungeons, and Dungeons or something.” An idea popped into his head. “You’re back!” He scrambled to his feet. “So, you’re not doing anything are you?”

“Oh, you mean that nerd game Dipper likes to play? Ugh, he dragged Candy into it all the time in high school!” Grauntie Mabel complained and then grinned. “But I’m not doing anything. Are we, Waddles?”

Waddles honked.

“That’s what I thought!”

Stanley gasped, “Oh! So, can we go out on an adventure or somethin’? Fight monsters and find ghosts and do _something?_ ”

“Well, I don’t know about ghosts,” Grauntie Mabel replied. “Or monsters… Kinda… kinda scared them off for a little bit. Heh. Grenda sure loves breaking things. But I did bring a little something-something back from my adventures. Come on!” She turned and walked right back out the door. Stanley rushed after her, his step light and smile wide.

Waddles honked and sniffed his shirt.

“Waddles,” Grauntie Mabel scolded. “Shirts aren’t food! And neither are kids. I told you that!” _Hoooonk._ “I didn’t? Well, I did just now.” _Homph._ “Don’t be sulky. You had breakfast.”

“You can understand him?” Stan prompted. _She could talk to aliens! Oh, man. She’s so cool!_

Grauntie Mabel nodded. “Yep! It’s kinda hard at first, but it’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it. Though, sometimes I still get ‘Mabel’ and ‘doorbell’ mixed up.”

“Can you teach me? I wanna talk to space pigs!”

“That’ll be kinda hard.” Grauntie Mabel stopped in the yard. “We’ll need a herd of them to teach you the basics first. I’d need a working portal gun and a new license since I _kinda_ got my license revoked last year for misconduct. I mean, you break a space-cruiser and blow up a star _one time_ and suddenly you’re _‘banned from driving’_ and a _‘liability risk’_. Anyway!” She sat down, cross-legged on the grass. Waddles flopped down next to her, pink-furred back on the grass. Stanley plopped down next to her. She fished through her bag and pulled out a card. “There’s my ID! It’s accepted in every open dimension and allows me to use portal guns and drive passenger or one-person space ships. Just not cruisers. It’s basically a driver’s license.”

Stanley took the card and looked it over, oo’ing over the little details of it. It did look quite a bit like his dad’s driver’s license–which Stanley totally didn’t know by finding it while stealing quarters from his dad’s wallet–except the photo changed when he turned it and it was written in weird symbols. “Why is your eye green here?”

“Oh, that’s a good story. It’s a new eye.” She pointed to her left eye, which changed from deep brown to a brilliant green. “I lost my old one in a civil war I was sucked into!”

“Whoa! Really?”

Grauntie Mabel nodded. “Oh, yeah. It was when I was lost in the multiverse for the first time, just after I fell into the portal.” Mabel had been a refugee, hiding from demons in the portal and seeking shelter. She found a small gang of war-thrown refugees and hid with them. That’s also how she got an amazing tattoo of a star with arms, a smiling face, and the words “You’re an Allstar!” above it on her neck. She helped the refugees band together and made friends with them and then helped settle the conflict in their home dimension where the entire globe was torn into two factions. It took roughly two years and a few battles–one of which was a melee fight where she lost her eye. Once she was able to get the leaders to “hug it out”, or at least a civil political version of it, they gave her a new mechanical eye. “And this eye is really, really good. I can still see things super well with it!”

“They gave you a portal gun, too? Okay, now, you’ve said that at least four times. You _have_ to show it to me!”

Grauntie Mabel chuckled. “That’s not how it works, Champ! I probably shouldn’t show it to you just yet–it’s kinda touchy and broken–but I _can_ show you something just as cool.” She rifled through her bag and fished out a little plastic case like a jewelry holder–like the ones Stan saw on TV that a guy would use to hold a wedding ring. But, when she opened it, there was no ring. It was a teal ball with so many sides it almost looked completely smooth. The surface changed as the sides shifted and morphed into different shapes with different patterns on them.

Stanley’s eyes grew round. “Whoa! What is it?” Impulsively, he reached forward to grab it.

Grauntie Mabel moved it out of his reach. “Ah-ah! No touching! This Is an infinity-sided die!”

Stanley sputtered, “Wh-what? That’s impossible!”

“Nope!” Grauntie Mabel chuckled. “It’s possible! But just barely. You know, this thing is outlawed in nine- _thousand_ different dimensions! You see how it’s changing? Infinite sides means infinite outcomes. If I rolled this dice, anything could happen. The clouds could become cotton candy. The moon could become an egg. Our faces could turn into jelly. Or I could roll an eight. Nifty, huh? That’s why I keep it in this protective, cheap plastic case.” She shut it and tucked it away.

“Can I hold it?” Stanley prompted.

Grauntie Mabel shook her head. “Nope! It’s too dangerous. _I_ shouldn’t even have it!”

Stanley pouted. “Aw, come on! It’s in a protective case!”

“Oh, no. No, those puppy eyes don’t work on me.” Grauntie Mabel stated and then smiled. “Welp, I’m kinda hungry. You wanna watch some TV and eat some intergalactic peanut butter-and-jelly sandwiches?”

“Do I!” Stanley jumped up and, waiting impatiently for her to get up, followed his great aunt. But, when they walked into the living room, it was completely occupied.

Grunkle Dipper and Stanford sat across criss-cross on the living room floor with the board between them. Papers scattered about. Susan stood nearby, arms crossed behind her back, looking over the play.

Stanley groaned. “Uuuuugh! I thought you were playing that upstairs!”

Grauntie Mabel crossed her arms. “Yeah! You never play in the TV room.”

Stanford answered, never looking away from the board, “No dice! We ran out of room in the attic and we’re going for a world record! Now, dice!” He threw a light-colored die onto the board. After a brief pause, Stanford exclaimed, “Thirty-two, yes! 7,000 points damage!”

“You got me!” Grunkle Dipper laughed.

Susan brought out a pad and scribbled something down. “I’m record-keeping for Team Nerd. Fidds and Ivan had to go help Mr. McGucket at the shop. I’m guessing you and Mrs. Pines went out on an adventure?”

Grunkle Dipper stopped laughing and sat up straight. “You didn’t go into the woods, did you? I think I heard a Hide-Behind out there a few days ago.”

Grauntie Mabel waved her hand with a _pssh._ “Nah, bro! We just went out into the yard and told stories.”

“Yeah! She has this super cool dice that’s _way_ cooler than that, what, thirty-two-sided dice?”

 Grauntie Mabel nodded in confirmation. “It’s an _infinity-sided dice!_ ”

The three became noticeably more interested, then. Grunkle Dipper perked up. “Really? But that’s impossible!”

“Do you have it? Where?” Stanford got up and rushed to their side.

Grauntie Mabel fished the case out of her pocket and gently opened it. Both boys ooh’ed. When Stanford tried to touch it, she held it out of his grasp. “Ah-ah! Like I told your brother: no touching. If I roll this die, literally _anything_ can happen!”

Susan snickered, “Including getting Stanley to understand schoolbooks?”

“Hey!” exclaimed both boys.

“I understand–”

“He understands–”

“–our grade books!”

Susan held up her hands. “Wow, sheesh. Hit a nerve there.”

Waddles honked impatiently and pawed at Grauntie Mabel’s leg. Grauntie Mabel turned her attention to him. “What’s wrong, Waddles?”

He honked and, quite suddenly, the plastic case was in his mouth.

“NO! Waddles, bad pig! No eating my things!” Grauntie Mabel yelped and lunged at him. She ended up running into Grunkle Dipper, causing them both to fall off-balance. Waddles, surprised as not only his mother figure was down, but Stanley pounced on him, let go of the case and backed off.

They watched as the mangled case cracked open and the dice rolled across the floor. The silhouette of a robed person holding a staff appeared on the top section of the dice.

The lid of the board game crackled with electricity as a spark arced from the die to the box. The box shuttered and from it burst a group of people and creatures. At the very front was Probabilitor, a white-bearded, gangly wizard wielding a staff that had a glowing thirty-eight-sided die at the top. The elven archer stood at his right along with a large griffon. To his left stood an ogre.

The wizard cried, “Mortals of dimension forty-seven-apostrophe-back-slash, kneel before me and…” He threw a dice on the ground. “Snivel!”

The kids took a step back, their eyes wide in terror. Grauntie Mabel stood tense and at the ready. Waddles, snarling like a revving motorcycle engine, turned a deep maroon and stood beside Grauntie Mabel.

“I am Probabilitor! The greatest wizard in all of mathology!” the wizard announced and then leveled his hand. “Give or take an error of zero-point-four.”

“Um… was this supposed to happen?” Grunkle Dipper prompted. He took Stanley and Stanford, who held onto Susan, by the shoulders and backed off. Grauntie Mabel took a few steps back as well.

Stanford gave him a nervous, hopeful smile. “Have you come to send us on the quest of a lifetime because we’re the smartest players you’ve ever met?”

“You _are_ the smartest players I’ve ever met!” Probabilitor agreed and then pointed his staff at Grunkle Dipper and Stanford individually. “That’s why I’m going to eat your brains to gain your intelligence.” He shrugged. “It’s what I do.”

“It’s his thing!” the ogre agreed.

“ _WHAT?!_ ” Stanford gasped.

“Seize them!” Probabilitor commanded.

Grauntie Mabel’s ray gun was in her hands in an instant. “Don’t you _dare!_ Your math is no match for my gun!”

“I’m not here to play games. Math ray!” Probabilitor cried and pointed his staff at them. A bright blue ray littered with numbers, letters, and symbols broke through the living room and front door. Gompers, who had been on the porch, fled. Waddles yelped as the blast hit him in the face, stunning him, and he tumbled onto the porch. Everyone who was inside of the living room ducked out of fire.

Grunkle Dipper, who was attempting to get to his feet, was snatched by the back of his trench coat by the ogre. Stanford was taken from behind the T-Rex skull by the back of his shirt.

“Now back to the forest! For the ultimate game!” Probabilitor cried and flew out of the hole in the house. The elf jumped onto the griffon’s neck. The griffon snatched the ogre and flew away.

“Oh no!” Susan gasped. “That crazy wizard is going to eat your brothers’ brains!”

Stanley leveled his hand. “Let him take a few bites out of Ford’s brain, even things out smart-wise.” When Grauntie Mabel and Susan didn’t show amusement at his words, he sighed in mock-exasperation. “Oh fine. I guess we’ll have to go save them.”

Grauntie Mabel puffed out her Chest. “Yeah! Are you kids ready to go on an epic wizard quest?” Stanley and Susan jumped up and yelled their excitement. “Grab a few weapons, first.”

Susan dragged a bat out of the couch with a wicked grin. Stanley took out his brass knuckles. Grauntie Mabel put on steel-heeled shoes and grabbed a rake.

“We’re coming for you, Ford!” Stanley announced.

“And Dipper!” Grauntie Mabel agreed.

“And probably that hot elf!” Susan yelled.

 

In the forest, the two were tied to a tree. Stanford took deep breaths and concentrated on controlling his fear. Grunkle Dipper glowered at Probabilitor as the wizard approached them. “With every brain I eat,” Probabilitor stated and summoned a tape measure. It measured their heads on its own. “-I can increase my enchantelligence!”

Grunkle Dipper stated coldly, “If my hands were free, I’m break every part of your face.”

Probabilitor turned. “The time has come! Hot elf! Ready the brain-cooking pot!”

The elf sighed. “Yes, Probabilitor.” He took out an arrow, whose tip lit up in light purple flames, flipped his hair, and pointed it at the wood under the cauldron. Once the arrow hit, the tinder and wood under the metal cauldron burst into flames. The pink liquid inside of it bubbled. Now, Grunkle Dipper looked frightened as the wizard’s threat had come to life.

 

In the forest, Grauntie Mabel, Stanley, and Susan walked on a beaten path. Grauntie Mabel winced and smacked her right shoulder. “These fairy bites are getting more frequent. We must be getting close!”

“Hey, look, listen!” the fairy squeaked and twitched.

They stopped and backed up as a giant ogre stomped onto the path before them. “Halt!” he commanded. “You interlopers are trespassing on the ancient forest of Probabilitor the Wizard!” A sly grin broke across his features. “If ye wish to pass, first ye must complete seven unworldly quests, each more difficult than the–”

“NO!” Stanley jumped off a small cliff at the edge of the trail and brought his fists down so hard they heard a _clunk!_ The ogre fell back.

Susan poked his foot. “Is he… dead?”

Grauntie Mabel waved her hand with a huff. “He’s magic, Hun-bun. I’m sure he’s _fine._ ”

 

Probabilitor cackled as he looked over the heavily steaming cauldron.

“What do we do?” Stanford hissed.

Grunkle Dipper looked over the scene. “Stay quiet! The more attention you draw to yourself, the more he’ll want to eat you!”

“And now, a little math problem.” Probabilitor moseyed over to them and got nose-to-nose with Grunkle Dipper. “When I subtract your brains from your skulls,” He tapped each of their heads in turn. Grunkle Dipper glowered at him. “-add salt, and divide your family, what’s the remainder?”

“YOUR BUTT!” Stanley’s masterful come-back came in response.

“What? My butt isn’t part of this particular equation.” He turned to look at the brush near the trail, where Grauntie Mabel, Stanley, and Susan leaped out. “Drat! How did you make it past my one guard? Very well.” Probabilitor gave them a devilish smirk. His staff glowed and pointed to the people who’d been tied up. “There’s only one way your family can save you.” He pointed the staff at Grauntie Mabel, Stanley, and Susan. “ _YOU_ must defeat _ME_ in Dungeons, Dungeons, and more Dungeons!” He waved his staff. His voice turned into a heavy echo. “Real life edition!” He stamped the butt of his staff into the purple rune-covered circle on the ground. The area blazed in purple light and then contracted as the light turned into a castle-shaped board. A few of his ogre minions appeared on the board. Probabilitor sat cross-legged behind it while Grauntie Mabel and Stanley sat cross-legged on the other side. Purple sparkles glinted beneath them for a few moments as the spell gave all three of them the ability to levitate half a foot off the ground.

“What? Come on,” Grauntie Mabel groaned.

Probabilitor waved his hand. “I choose my characters…” Two ogres appeared on the board. “…versus…” He closed his hand. Behind him, the ropes fell as the two tied to the tree vanished in a spark of light. Probabilitor opened his hand to reveal the two. “–yours.”

Grunkle Dipper, now dressed in medieval-style, brown and greenish brown robes and coat, set a hand on his head. “Ah! What? My ears. Their so pointy!” He revealed a golden button on his tunic as he raised his arm and the belt pressing down his three layers of clothes shuffled at the movement.

Stanford looked at himself. He wore a greenish beige tunic and hoodless cloak. Unlike Grunkle Dipper, his belt was beneath the cloak. Stanford looked at himself. “What in the–?”

Stanley huffed, “Seriously, can’t we just, like, arm wrestle or something?”

Probabilitor clicked his tongue and closed his hands. The boys appeared on the game set. “Come on! This game is a lot of fun! I had my mom pack me a lunch.” He took out a brown paper bag and fished out a bag of apple slices. “Ew, apple slices? I’ll eat you last.” He discarded the bag.

Grauntie Mabel crossed her arms. “Just make with the rules, already.” Stanley looked between them and started chewing on a piece of pink gum.

“The game is a battle royal,” Probabilitor explained. “We help our characters by casting spells determined by rolls of the dice. If you win, I’ll go back to my own dimension.”

Grauntie Mabel clapped and Stanley grinned at her.

“–But if _I_ win, I eat their brains.”

Stanford looked between them. “Look, I’m not sure this is such a good id–”

Stanley hit his fist into his open hand. “DEAL!”

“Oh boy.” Stanford hung his head with a short sigh.

“Let the game… BEGIN!” Probabilitor rolled a glowing pink dice. It landed on “13”. “Attack!” he cried. The ogres immediately charged the shrunken two and smashed their weapons into the ground.

Grunkle Dipper hopped back with a shout. Stanford darted around so that he was behind the ogre. “Hey! WHOA!” he ducked as the ogre spun around, bringing his weapon with him.

Stanley looked down as the scene unfolded. “Uh-uh! What do we do? What are our moves?!”

Stanford spared a glance up at him. “There _are_ no moves!”

Grauntie Mabel raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yes,” Grunkle Dipper agreed and hopped back so that he wasn’t crushed into oblivion by a club bristling with nails. “I tried to tell you: this game involves math, but also risk and imagination!”

“Risk?” Stanley rubbed his hands together with a devilish smile.

“Oh! Imagination!” Grauntie Mabel gasped. “Stanley! You first! Make something up! It’s just like lying, but more fun!”

Stanley picked up his own dice, which glittered blue. “I cast, uh…” Stanford staggered back and hit the ground as he tripped over his own cape. Grunkle Dipper held an arm out in front of him and glared at the ogre ready to strike. “Shield of… shielding!” he dropped the dice, which landed on “14”.

A blue, translucent shield appeared before the three. The ogre’s spiked club rang and reverberated off the shield. Stanford laughed and puffed out his chest. Grunkle Dipper kept a hand on his shoulder and grinned, partially due to the younger boy’s infectious relief and happiness at the evasion of death.

“Ha!” Stanley laughed. “We’re doing it!” Grauntie Mabel punched him in the arm with a light chuckle.

Probabilitor rolled his dice. “Shield of Shielding reversal spell!” Their shield turned pink and dissolved. The ogre roared in triumph and held up his weapon.

Grauntie Mabel swiped the dice from the board. “I cast: Giggle Time Bouncy Boots!” Pink boots with googly eyes and springs appeared on the two. Grunkle Dipper hopped up and then leaped back. Stanford dodged the attack easily, laughing as they were practically flying. Grunkle Dipper sported a confused grin. “Hot flaming sword!” she announced. Red swords alight with red flames appeared in their hands. “Super-hot flaming sword!” The sword got longer, and the flames fiercer. Stanford hopped on the first’s head and then swung his sword down as he landed. The ogre dissipated in a flash of dull pink light. Grunkle Dipper parried a blow from the second and ran him through.

Probabilitor threw his dice again. “You’ll never outrun my _Ogre-nado!_ ” A hard wind picked up and swirled around the dice. Ogre body parts, mostly their heads but some arms and legs, popped out of the tornado. Grunkle Dipper and Stanford, their boots gone, stood a few feet away. Their swords were torn out of their hands by the sheer wind power and lodged into the wall in the far side of the arena. “It is what it sounds like!”

Grauntie Mabel puffed out her chest and grabbed the dice. “I cast: Centaur-taur! Yah!” The blue dice rolled onto the board. Before it could stop, it burst into blue flames and turned into a horse. Instead of a head, its Elongated neck turned into another horse.

Stanley looked up at his great aunt. “I’m so confused right now. But it’s still awesome!”

The creature reared, whinnied, and ran to their aid. Grunkle Dipper hopped onto its back. It flipped over so that its over body was running. Dipper held onto it, now upside down, with both legs and arms. Stanford hopped onto the horse, holding on with all his might. With a snort from somewhere none of them wanted to imagine, the centaur-taur turned and sprinted for the far end of the field where a large door opening was in the middle of the wall.

“Go, go, go!” Grauntie Mabel and Stanley cheered. “You can do it!”

The centaur-taur hit the top of the doorway and disappeared in a flash of light. Grunkle Dipper and Stanford landed in a heap at the far end of the small room. The ogre-nado hit the wall, effectively knocking it down and tearing it apart. The ogre-nado disappeared into over two dozen ogres, all of which vanished in a flash of light.

As Grauntie Mabel and Stanley cheered, Grunkle Dipper helped Stanford to his feet and chanced a smile at their accomplishment and survival. Then, they gasped in terror as a three-fingered beast grabbed them all in one hand, picked them up, and then forced them to the wall. They stared down the creature’s one eye. The hideous thing bore two bat-wings but also a whole amalgamation of weird parts. Wart-covered horns, tentacles, spikes, multiple arms and legs, and patches of fur and scales covered the ugly thing’s body. Grauntie Mabel and Stanley stopped cheering immediately.

Probabilator cackled, “Yes! I was saving the worst for last!”

Stanford gasped. “Oh no!”

Grunkle Dipper glared past the beast and to Probabilitor. “Hey! I thought the Impossibeast was banned!”

“Think again!” Probabilitor sneered. “I’m playing the controversial 1991-1992 edition!”

Grauntie Mabel picked up the dice. “I-I’ll think of some weapons!”

Grunkle Dipper shook his head. “You don’t understand. This is the most powerful creature in the game. Only by rolling a perfect thirty-eight can it be defeated. But the odds of that are–”

Stanley laughed and snatched the dice from Grauntie Mabel. “Hey, long odds are what you want when you’re gunna be a world-class gambler!” He shook the dice and concentrated on the board. “Alright, Stan, you can do this. Papa needs a new pair of… _twins!_ ” He chucked the dice. They watched as it skipped and rolled over the board. The atmosphere was so tense, Stanford could hardly breathe. That wasn’t even speaking for Grunkle Dipper, who was holding his breathe.

The dice stopped rolling. For a moment, it tottered on “37” before finally landing on “38”. Probabilitor’s smug smile immediately left him. _“NO!”_

“Sorry, nerd-wizard,” Stanley sneered. “All your smarts are no match for dumb luck.”

Grauntie Mabel looked down. Stanley gave her the thumbs up. “I cast: _Death Muffins!_ ”

The trio being pinned by the impossibeast raised their hands. Pink, glittering muffins with a stick of dynamite whose wick was burning appeared in their hands. They chucked the explosive confections into the monster’s mouth. Instead of a throat, it had another mouth which had a throat. The creature shut its mouths with a confused groan. It let go of the two, shuttered, bloated like a balloon, and then exploded into a giant, pink mushroom cloud that rained pink-frosted muffins. Stanley and Grauntie Mabel cheered. Grunkle Dipper and Stanford appeared next to their family, back in their normal clothes and back to their normal size. Both held muffins.

Stanley pounced on Stanford, laughing. Grauntie Mabel rubbed their heads and then put her brother in a headlock.

The elf behind him holding the rulebook, flipped his hair. “The game is, like, over. Excelci-whatever.” He seemed to be ignoring Susan, who had him in a tight hug.

The group stood up and watched as Probabilitor and the game set turned pink and disintegrated. “No! I’m returning to my own realm! I’m turning into pure math! What are the _oooooodds?”_ He, like everything else that was summoned, vanished.

Grauntie Mabel took a bite out of the non-lethal death muffin she had been gifted.

Stanford laughed and turned to his brother. “That was amazing! How did you know we’d win?”

Stanley plucked the thirty-eight-sided dice from the ground. It stuck a bit as the gum he’d put on it had a hard time letting go of the ground. “A gambler never reveals his secrets.”

“Okay, you know, as fun as this was…” Grunkle Dipper looked at his sister. “I think we should be returning home.”

Grauntie Mabel nodded. “Yeah, yeah. We probably should.” She looked down at Stanford and sighed. “Okay, I’m sorry for making fun of your game. Yeah it is pretty nerdy for us, but…”

“–it’s just the right amount of nerdy for you!” Stanley claimed. “Even though you took up the living room.”

“You know,” Stanford started. “I could do with some mindless fun now, anyway.”

Susan piped up, “You know, they’re airing the Duck-tective season finale. It’s not too late if we make it back quick enough!”

 

Later that night, Grunkle Dipper lounge in his chair in the living room, Grauntie Mabel sat on the side. Stanford sat in the chair beside Dipper while Stanley and Susan watched from the floor. A bowl of popcorn, multiple containers of chips, and duck-foot-shaped snacks were shared between them.

On the TV, Duck-tective lay on a hospital bed. An oxygen mask fit over his beak. His friend stood over his bed. The duck let out a few sad quacks. On the TV, subtitles appeared. “I’m going to that big pond in the sky.”

The man took off his hat and wiped a tear away from his eye. “I just don’t understand who shot you. The only person clever enough to defeat Duck-tective is-” the man gasped. “Duck-tective!” He shuttered as a bedpan was thrown at him. The man fell over, unconscious.

In the doorway behind him was a small, avian shape. Duck-tective sat up and watched as a duck very, very similar in appearance to Duck-tective save for his black goatee, walked into the light. He quacked. The subtitles read, “Time to finish the job… _twin brother!_ ”

Duck-tective let out a terrified quack. The oxygen mask fell off.

The people watching stared at the screen, unamused. Stanley huffed, “He had a twin brother all along?” He raised his hands, inadvertently spilling chips onto Susan’s lap. “ _That’s_ the big twist we were waiting for?”

Susan smashed the chip she held into the ground and crossed her arms. “What a rip-off!”

Stanford scoffed, “I predicted that a year ago.”

 

Stanford and Stanley walked up to their bedroom. Before they could get there, Grunkle Dipper’s somber voice reached Stanley. The boy paused at the top of the stairs.

Grunkle Dipper and Grauntie Mabel stood in the gift shop. The glow-in-the-dark stars painted on the ceiling gleamed above them. Grunkle Dipper sighed. “Look, Mabel… I love you. You know that. You’re my sister and I love you. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but…”

“–what I did today was reckless,” Grauntie Mabel agreed, her voice dragging.

“Hey, hey, I know you’re doing your best. But you _just_ got here!” Grunkle Dipper pointed out. “I’ve been thinking. The boys are going back home in a month, by the end of the summer. Maybe… maybe until then you could… refrain from bringing in the supernatural for a while. Once they’re gone and we have the house to ourselves, I could help you catch up on current events–including what’s appropriate and what’s not appropriate for children. That way, the next time they come over or we visit them, no accidents like this happen again.”

For a tense moment, there was silence. Then, Grauntie Mabel nodded.

“Yeah.” She smiled and chuckled. “Don’t look so worried! I think that’s a good idea.”

“R-really?”

“Yeah! I don’t want to accidentally summon another wizard again, right? I should, uh, really organize my things in the basement, anyway. Have you ever cleaned that place? It looks like there’s still dust from thirty years ago in there!”

“Alright, alright! I love you, Mabel.”

“Good-night, bro-bro!”

“Goodnight, sis.”

Stanley started to move away. Once Grunkle Dipper was out of the picture, Grauntie Mabel stated, “I know you’re hiding there, Champ. What did Dipper tell you about spying?”

“Um… nothing?” Stanley tried, climbing down the stairs.

“Nice try! But really, it’s rude to listen in on other’s conversations,” Grauntie Mabel pointed out. “And I should probably do something about it, but I won’t. It’s kinda late.” With that, she opened the vending machine and walked into the hallway.

Stanley hurried to stay by her side. “Are you really going to stay down here the rest of the summer?”

“Afraid so, Champ.” She pushed the buttons on her little elevator, bringing it up and then taking them down to the basement. “My bro’s right. I haven’t been here for thirty whole years. They could have changed everything while I was gone! Are leg-warmers in fashion?”

Stanley shook his head. “Nope.”

“See? Everything’s changed.” Grauntie Mabel stopped by a wall of little glass-door cubbies. She set a tube with the infinity-sided die suspended in it inside of the cubby. Then, she locked it with a key on a keychain heavy with bobbles, from a space ship from Grunkle Dipper’s gift shop to a devil-horned, winged, and spade-tailed pink kitten. “There. This will be here if you ever need it.”

Stanley stuck his hands in his pockets. “Really? Even after all that?”

Grauntie Mabel chuckled, “Aw, we both got a bit carried away.” Her smile left her, and she turned to Stanley with an expression of seriousness he didn’t know she could possess. “May I tell you something, Stan?”

Stanley nodded, his own smile lost.

“I didn’t tell Dipper, but there’s a reason I need to stay down here. So…” She walked up to the window into the portal room, which was covered by a curtain. Stanley’s eyes widened as he looked over the wreckage. “I dismantled the portal. Something like this is way too dangerous and bad for whatever universe it’s in.” She hesitated. “I don’t blame Dipper for anything. He’s an amazing brother and he’s just doing what’s right. But, as I feared,” Grauntie Mabel opened a slot above the desk where the scrapbooks had been kept. She pulled out a fancy snow globe with a glob of the universe swirling within it. “–the machine blowing up created this.” She opened her hands fully to show it to him. “It’s an interdimensional rift. I have it contained, but it’s _incredibly_ dangerous.” She set a hand on Stanley’s shoulder and stared into his very soul. “Stanley, I don’t want you to tell _anyone_ about this.”

“Not even Grunkle Dipper?”

“Especially not him. If he knew this is what happened when he opened the portal, he’d just blame himself. That won’t fix anything. Do you understand?”

Stanley gulped and nodded. “I understand.”

“I have made some powerful enemies. But! I trust you with this secret.” Stanley bit his tongue. The very thought caused his heart to race. _The author, the woman who wrote the scrapbooks and went on missions with people way better than him, trusted Stanley._ Grauntie Mabel let go of him and stood up. “Now, get yourself to bed. I have much to do.”

Stanley smiled and walked off. He looked behind him. “Good night, Grauntie Mabel!”

“Goodnight, Stan.” Once the elevator shut behind Stanley, Grauntie Mabel frowned at the rift and put it back in the cubby that once held Scrapbook One amongst other books.

 

FHRZKIF, UDUGW, NBG KGPRPUIVSEM PIIMPOO LWIYWQO! JSJ AXKJ QBFH EJSYSVWOI POQ NCQVZB JQRQWQO IIG?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very first day she’s here and boom! In trouble. Grunkle dipper really wasn’t expecting that, I’d bet. No one was… not even her! Ee-heh, she’ll be fine–er, they’ll all be fine. Really, there’s nothing to worry about. Everything will turn out just fine…
> 
>  
> 
> 6: _Jsot Oeoso Kgvgolvnc Vg D Otinh Vcoqrf Fitigonmt Auc La Ivrow Iv Orssqpk Gvh Skhf Cxb qj Qoqogv, Ewjpv?_


	12. My Kingdom For a Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, now that Mabel has been virtually banned from the upstairs, everything’s going to go back to normal and there won’t **b** e anything weird or supernatural or exciting going on at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find it on dA:

The early morning’s light, slim and meek, filtered in through the shut blinds of Dipper’s room. The deep blues and purples sucked up any light that got past the curtains. So, it was by his own internal clock that Dipper slowly left the land of dreams. Blinking blearily, he stared up at the rough wood ceiling above. “Time to wake up, Dipper.” He pushed himself up and looked down where one of his slippers lay. The other was half-eaten and had been taken a few feet away. “Yep. Another day, another one of my things eaten.” His alarm went off, but was quickly silenced.

He pushed himself off the bed, shut the door, turned on the light, and grabbed his coat. As he got ready for the day, Dipper recited, “Okay, Wednesday, August eighth. Be sure to make extra pancakes again, Stan might need a haircut, ask Ford to lock Gompers in his room at night, go to the store, remind Maria not to touch Mabel’s room, remind Dan not to go on the roof, make sure to look over repairs, check radiation levels in the lab, check up on Candy and make sure she knows who you are, pay the bills, check the mail, check up on Tate and Fiddleford and Ivan, and what am I forgetting…?” He looked himself in the mirror as he shaved. “Uh… right! Apology cookies for Stan and you did promise to take them to the arcade today. Nice! Now, grocery list…? Where’s the…? Ah!” He rinsed off his face, plucked a piece of paper off his nightstand, and walked into the kitchen. “Eggs, milk, sprinkles, vegetables for tonight’s dinner, goat food, shampoo, shaving cream, orange juice, cookies–” Grunkle Dipper winced as the lightbulb shattered when he tried turning it on. “–and lightbulbs. Oh, man. I should get moving.” He plucked his keys and walked briskly out of the house.

Eventually, once he got to the store, he pulled out his list and phone. “Hey, Tate! … Oh, no. I’m just getting stuff for breakfast. Hey, I wanted to talk about Fiddleford…? … Oh, no! No, actually I just wanted to say he’s been a really great kid. The kids are getting along again, I saw. So, I was wondering if you guys were doing anything on Saturday. I thought it would be a great day to have a picnic or something. … Oh, yeah. I’m sure she’ll want to come, too. … Great! Yeah, things have been so hectic lately. Seeing the kids get along in all this chaos was just something I wanted to encourage. Besides, I don’t think Ford and Lee have gone on any good outdoor picnics. … Yeah, cityfolk, right? Hehe Have a great day, Tate. Tell Ivan and Fiddleford I said hi.”

 

Yet, as Dipper unloaded his car and walked back to the Shack, he still muttered his list of things to do for the day, sans the things he’d already done. “If I hurry, I’ll have at least the pancakes done before the kids wake up. I swear if they see me dumping broccoli in the mix, they’ll never trust me again.” He stopped as he walked into the kitchen.

As well as both of their pets, Mabel, Stanley, and Stanford were in the brightly lit kitchen. Stanford held Gompers at the kitchen table. Though he didn’t seem willing to move farther into the kitchen than that, he still watched his great aunt and brother with a great amount of excitement. Mabel, holding a pan, threw a pancake up. Stanley caught it on a plate already topped haphazardly with pancakes, all with a suspicious glimmer to them. Waddles honked and head-butted the stove. He was pink, like Mabel’s sweater though Mabel’s sweater held a monkey and bananas on it. Mabel poured more batter into the pan and then some onto her alien pet’s face. The three laughed as the space hog backed off and attempted to wash off the batter on his snout.

Right as he approached, Mabel looked up. “Oh, hey, Dipper! Where were you?”

“Eh, hey, morning, Mabel. I thought the light was broken,” Dipper commented as he maneuvered himself to the refrigerator. “I was just at the store… getting food and lightbulbs.”

“Good thing I had a spare one.” She pointed up to the kitchen light. “It’s much brighter than normal Earth lights since it’ll stay on for a thousand years and turns your skin softer if you stay under it!”

Excited, Stanford agreed, “It’s amazing!”

Then, Stanley laughed, “Yeah! Your sister’s the coolest, Grunkle Dipper! We were gunna show Grauntie Mabel the lake!”

“Tssk! Catch!” Mabel flipped the pan back. Stanley caught the pancake, barely. “Yeah, we were going to the lake today. Before you ask, it’s _totally_ safe. All three of us know how to work a boat and how to swim, and Waddles is trained in search-and-rescue! He could take on a lake monster all on his own!” Waddles snarled, flushing a deep maroon and baring his saber teeth. Then, he calmed down and turned pink again. “Yeah, see!”

Immediately, Grunkle Dipper looked at Waddles, who was _very_ close to Stanley, and then his sister. “Really? Uh, well, I thought we were going to the arcade.”

“Nyyy… We were?” Stanley asked, blinking.

Grunkle Dipper stuck the last of the groceries–a package of lightbulbs they’d probably never use–in a cabinet. “Yeah. Day before yesterday I said we could go out to the arcade before work.” _The arcade, a perfect place to go for a short time to have a lot of fun with competition and things that everyone can do, but little chance for hurt feelings!_

“Ahh. We’ll, that’s okay. Grauntie Mabel said she’d take us to the lake, so you don’t have to open the Space Shack late or close it early or whatever.”

Looking at the frying Pancake, now, Mabel asked, “Uh… well… how about you come with us? It’ll be lots of fun!”

“Oh, well… I’m sorry.” Grunkle Dipper shrugged. “I… have work to do here. This place opens in a few hours.”

“Nnn… yeah. Well, they’ll be fine with me. No monster hunting.”

“Grauntie!”

“Pff! Hey, you’re great uncle’s right! Monster hunting is super dangerous without a responsible adult.” She poked her spatula at Dipper. _Aw no._

Excited, Stanley gasped. “Oh! Please come, Grunkle Dipper! It’ll be fun!”

“Really?” Stanford turned to his brother. “Stanley, Grunkle Dipper just said he couldn’t come. He has work to do.”

Faster than Dipper would’ve liked, Stanley’s smile fell. “Oh, right.”

“Eh, alright, alright.” Dipper sighed. “I’ll drive you guys over there.” The kids cheered. Soon, they were eating an overly sugary breakfast, talking about what fantastic things they’d see and do at the lake.

Clear as day, the lake shone under the morning’s light. When they stopped by the lake, and the kids jumped out, Mabel leaned toward him. “You sure you wanna go, Dip?”

“Thing is, I have to, Mabel! It’s Wednesday,” Dipper pointed out. “Don’t worry about me. Just have some fun. Make sure they put on sunscreen, alright? They’ll find a way out of it. And don’t run into any monsters!”

“Loosen up, bro!” Mabel scoffed. “We’ll be fine. I’ll walk ’em back to the Shack this afternoon, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Call me at noon, alright? Love you, sis.”

“Right-o, Dipper! Love you, bro!” Mabel waved and joined Stanley and Stanford by the docks. Fiddleford and Ivan were there, now, which was no surprise to anyone.

In clockwork fashion, as he did every day for thirty years, Dipper turned onto the main road and stopped by the dump. He looked over the entrance and then the footrail he took every morning to Candy’s house.

_“Good morning, Candy!” Dipper greeted._

_Head behind the pelt that acted as a door, Candy looked out of her little “house”. She grinned and walked out, her wall-eyed eyes bright. “Good morning, Dopper!”_

_Then, Dipper met her in the… front yard? He pulled out a container with pancakes and a few slices of bacon, all still warm. “Hehe. I brought some breakfast. I made too much, again. Hope you don’t mind or anything.”_

_Candy eagerly took the container from him. “No, no, it’s fine! Thanks, Dopper.”_

_Dipper set a hand on the back of his neck and recited the same line he had said to her every morning for years, “You know, Soos and I were talking the other day. We were thinking of taking like a road trip or something. Remember the trip we took altogether back in high school?”_

_“Back in what?” Candy prompted._

_“High school. The road trip. For spring break? Junior year?”_

_Candy cocked her head. “I… well, no? I don’t remember much these days.”_

_“Oh, right. Well, want me to remind you?”_

_Candy grinned again. “Sure! Come in, come in!”_

Then, he’d tell her the story of how he, Grenda, Mabel, and Candy went out of state for the first time ever with Grenda’s mom’s truck and Dipper and Mabel’s trailer. Dipper slept in the trailer while the girls had their tent outside and kept him up all night every night they were out there. Candy would be just as enthusiastic to hear about Grenda being her friend, Dipper taking a sudden detour to hunt down what he thought had been a ghost, and then Mabel: some girl that Dipper had told her was his twin sister and her friend, but Candy honestly couldn’t remember.

Dipper took a deep breath and walked out into the dump. Candy… wasn’t there. She was probably with Grenda. Now that she was recovering her memories, she probably wouldn’t even be at the dump for much longer. So, Dipper got back in his car and drove home again.

 

Dipper fidgeted with his suit and paced his kitchen. He checked his watched for the umpteenth time. _12:03_ glared back at him. He took a deep breath. “They’re having fun, Dipper. Nothing’s wrong. She’s running a bit late. She’s just being Mabel.” He looked at the silent phone.

A few minutes later, Maria walked into the kitchen, a broom in her hands. “I finished sweeping, _Sr. Pines._ Will you lead your next tour, now?”

“Huh?” Grunkle Dipper turned around. “My next…?” He looked down at his watch. _12:14._ “Oh! Right, right! Thanks, Maria.”

“Are you alright, _señor?_ ”

“Yeah, I’m fine, fine. I’m just expecting a call is all. Hey, if Mabel calls, do you mind answering? I’m expecting her to call soon.”

“Yes, sir. I will be within range of hearing.”

“Thank you, Maria. You’re shaping up to be a pretty responsible adult,” Dipper pointed out. “If I didn’t know it, I’d think you were already old enough to be looking after your own place!”

Maria smiled. “ _Gracias!_ ”

As Dipper lead tours, answered questions about astrology, and lead people back to the gift shop, the phone stayed silent. Finally, as Dipper read “ _1:30_ ” on his watch, the phone rang. “Hello! Dipper Pines speaking!”

 _“Dipper!”_ Mabel called. _“Hey!”_

“Mabel! Oh, thank goodness.” Dipper sighed. _It’s been an hour and a half! I’ve been worried sick. At least call to stop me from worrying! It’s not that hard._ “Uh… hey! So, did you have fun? What did you all do?”

_“Oh, yeah! We did all sorts of stuff! We’ll have to tell you when we get home, though. We gotta walk. But it was awesome, and we didn’t wreck your boat or anything.”_

“Oh, right. Right. Are you guys hungry?” Dipper glanced at the table, where he’d put saran wrap over a cluster of sandwiches.

_“Nah, we had lunch at the diner. Hey, we’re heading back, though!”_

“Oh, okay. Well, I’m glad you had fun! Talk to you when you get home, then?”

_“Yep! Talk to you later, Dipper!”_

_Click._

Dipper sighed and started to put away the things for lunch. He shrugged and picked up a sandwich for himself as well as a cup of orange juice. He felt a tug on his ankle where Gompers was chewing on his sleeve. So, he got up and poured out some food for the baby goat, too. “Sorry for the late lunch, Gompers.” The baby goat ignored him. “Yeah, I know.”

Stanley and Stanford raced each other inside from the back, laughing and shoving and throwing playful insults at each other. Waddles shook himself off on the porch, so he looked like he was part porcupine as well as whatever else he was. Mabel laughed and sat down beside him. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail and she grinned a wide grin. “So, Dipper! What’s going on?”

Both boys plopped down at the table, too. Gompers hopped onto Stanford’s lap, bleating happily and head-butting his chest until he was given attention.

“I’m just here,” Grunkle Dipper replied. “What happened with you guys?”

“Well, first, we went out to the lake to go sailing,” Mabel started. Both boys chipped into the tale of their _epic lake trip_ and how Mabel challenged them to different boat tricks and fishing. Stanford got more fish, but Stanley got the bigger fish, which he’d stolen from someone else’s line.

Stanford nodded. “Then Grauntie Mabel took us back to shore and we went to the diner to have lunch.”

Dipper looked at the boys and then Mabel. “I’m glad you guys had fun!” _Without me._ Dipper’s watch beeped at him. “Oh! Well, ought to be heading back to work. You boys wash off and come back, okay?”

“Yes, Grunkle Dipper.” The boys ran off.

“Mabel?” Dipper looked over at Mabel, whose smile had dimmed.

“I’m sorry. I just want to have some fun with them, you know? I didn’t know you guys were going to the arcade or anything.”

 _You could have asked._ “I know and you’re, well, you know a lot about monsters and magic so obviously you know how to avoid and defend against them,” Grunkle Dipper agreed. _I just don’t want to be the bad guy._ “But this was kinda sudden and… But you guys did have fun, and no one was hurt. Heh. Hey, you know, I was talking to Tate and on Saturday we’re grabbing all the kids and going out on a picnic. You want to come with?”

Mabel grinned. “Really? Everyone? The girls, too?”

“I’m sure, yeah!”

“Cool! Yeah, of course!” Mabel laughed. “I’ll prepare some cookies and we can have a great time out in the park!”

“Relaxing and telling stories,” Dipper agreed pointedly.

Mabel nodded. “Oh, man. I can’t wait to hear what everyone else has been doing all these years!”

A sudden heaviness came to Dipper’s heart then. It hit him like a truck, so hard and so fast he nearly lost his smile completely. Mabel laughed and looked past him to the window. God, he missed her smile. After all these years, hearing her laugh was the greatest thing in the world. _“I can’t wait to hear what everyone else has been doing all these years!”_ All those years of birthdays and holidays and weddings and births… all those years of an empty house with empty bottles… of bitterness and loneliness… all because of that one fight. All because they _fought._

“Hey, Dipper?” Mabel’s smile left her. “You okay?”

“Huh? Y-yeah! Yeah, I’m okay!” Dipper chuckled and straightened up. “I’m fine. I’ve got to get going, though. Oh, and I checked the radiation levels in the lab. You kept a blanket over the window, so I didn’t go far. But the entrance and room itself are safe.”

Mabel nodded. “Oh, yeah. I totally checked the big room, too. It’s safe! Thanks for that neat-o schedule thing you wrote me. I’ve been filling it out.”

“Great!”

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

The next morning, Mabel was woken up as Waddles nudged her shoulder. “Hnnn… no, let me sleep forever.” Yesterday had been draining, especially after that giant bugbear attacked and she had to ward it away before dinner. It felt kinda bad lying to Dipper about it even being there, but if he knew she might’ve accidentally summoned it with a honey potion she’d made for Waddles, he’d just get mad at her. She didn’t want to fight with him, not after dreaming of finding him after all those years by herself.

Still, Waddles was persistent. He nudged her with his nose and honked.

Finally, Mabel sighed and sat up. “Alright, alright. I’m up.” Waddles honked joyfully and hopped to the door, his tail thrashing and bright eyes on her. Mabel brushed out her air and, as she got ready for the day, talked with Waddles. “So what day is it again?” _Honk._ “No, that was yesterday. Oh, wait. Wednesday was yesterday, so today must be Thursday! For some reason, I keep thinking it’s Thazma. We’re on Earth again! It’s gunna take _forever_ to remember Earth stuff. At least everyone still speaks English. I think. What kinda lingo do they have these days?” Mabel brushed out her hair and held it back with a scrunchie. She looked at herself in the mirror and hummed. She pulled on her self-cleaning sweater and set her hands on her hips. Her sweater turned gold with a funny little duck on it. “Perfect! I’m feeling in a quack-y mood today! What do you think, Waddles?”

Waddles honked and turned yellow with a white tuft of fur on his tail and ears.

“You’re so supportive. Let’s go get breakfast, huh?” _Honk!_

Dipper was up first. He was pouring in the first pancake when Mabel walked in.

She looked over his cooking and then the batter. “Hmm… you know, your pancakes could do with a little sprucing up.”

“No thank you.” Dipper flipped the pancake. “I think you should leave the glitter for decorating.”

“But this is _edible_ glitter!”

“Okay, then cookies. You love baking, right?”

“Yeah, that’s true.” Mabel nodded. _I like helping out, though. I even made breakfast for you yesterday!_ She poured Waddles his food, told him to mimic a cat–which he did perfectly–and allowed him to eat while she sat down. “So, you like cooking now, or something?”

“Eh, I’ve gotten used to it,” Dipper said. “I’ve been cooking for myself since college, remember?”

“Really? I thought you ate at the cafeteria or filter-fed or something,” Mabel pointed out and then laughed and ducked as he swiped at her with the spatula.

“Har, har. But I think I do a good job of it.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. It was much better than most food I had since the last time I was here!” Dipper’s mood dropped. _Stupid! You can’t joke about that!_ “So, uh… how long have the boys been here?”

Dipper smiled and poured another pancake. “Since the beginning of the summer. I visited over Spring Break, you know. Their parents asked if I could take them for the summer. What else could I say? I rarely get to meet Ford and Lee.”

“So, you call him Lee? Does he not like Stan?” Mabel asked. _Aw, no! What if he was just too polite to–nah. Nah, Stan tells his mind! Just like her! …sort of._

“I don’t know. I called them by their full names the first time I met them, but they told me they’d rather be called Ford and Lee,” Dipper replied.

At that point, Mabel heard the shuffle of feet down the stairs.

“Good morning!” Mabel purred.

Stanley yawned a good morning. Stanford poured Gompers his own breakfast. “Good morning, Grauntie Mabel, Grunkle Dipper.”

Dipper flipped a pancake. “Sleep well last night?”

Stanford set his elbow on the table and leaned on it. A tired, dreamy look fell over him. “Hmm… yeah. I guess so.”

“Good dreams?” Mabel prompted. “What were they about?”

Stanford immediately looked down. “Nothing, really. They’re just dreams. I already mostly forgot about them.”

Mabel frowned and looked at Dipper, whose tentative happiness faltered. _But why… oh no! Ford must get nightmares a lot!_ “Oh. Okay.” She shrugged. “I forget my dreams sometimes, too. Last night, though, I dreamed I was back in school!”

“School?” Stanley asked blearily. “What kinda nerd dreams ’bout school? Except for Ford and Dipper.”

“I do, I guess!” Grauntie Mabel chuckled. “Anyway, it wasn’t really _school_ , school. I was sitting with Dipper near the front. We’re in, like, middle school again. And I got all confused because it was weird _I_ was a kid again, but Dipper being a kid, too? But he didn’t find it weird! And then our teacher starts talking about math stuff and I woke up. What about you, Stanley?”

Stanley shrugged. “Nothin’ really. I dreamed about this dumb English bulldog that’s dressed like an English dude. He hit me with his cane. I totally kicked his butt, though.”

This received a few chuckles from Dipper and Mabel.

Stanley nudged Ford. “C’mon, Ford? Did you go to school in your dream or what?”

“No, I wasn’t at school, I was at the lake,” Stanford stated, as if trying to remind Stanley of the dream Stanford didn’t tell him about. “And we–I was on a boat. Yeah. _I_ looked over the things I was making. On my own.”

“We?” Stanley prompted with a sly smile. “Where was I?”

“I-I said _‘I’._ I only said _‘we’_ because I’m used to saying that,” Stanford pointed out. Mabel could hardly keep back a squeal. Oh, Ford was so cute flustered!

Dipper flipped the last pancake onto the platter and brought breakfast to the table. “Well, being on the lake with anyone, even if it’s just yourself, can be pretty fun. I’m glad you had good dreams, huh?”

“What about you?” Stanford prompted, a bit too quickly.

“Well…” Dipper glanced at Mabel, who smiled expectantly. “Yeah, so, I don’t remember too many details about it. But… I think it was something about… us? Uh… yeah! All of us! Someone, I think it was Mabel, was talking about how we stay here all the time. Then I remembered this time Candy and I talked about this road trip we’d taken. So, I said maybe we should go on a road trip. Somehow, we were already packed up. So, we all hopped in the car and drove. Don’t ask me where we went because I honestly don’t remember.”

Stanley gasped. “Oh, man! That totally beats beating up a dog-person! I wanna go out an’ do something.”

Mabel piped up, “With everything going on here? Right now? You’d be crazy to want to leave Gravity Falls! We still have so much to do together!” Dipper shut his mouth. Mabel kept herself from wincing. _Pay attention to the people around you!_

“Yeah I guess.” Stanley perked up. “Food!”

Dipper teased, “Easy, now! I don’t want you getting a stomach ache!”

“Pfft. I don’t _get_ stomachaches,” Stanley pointed out. “From meals.”

Stanford swallowed his piece. “Yeah you do. Don’t you remember when you–”

“Yeah,” Stanley interrupted loudly, causing their great aunt and uncle to laugh.

Halfway through breakfast, Mabel got the best idea ever. “Dipper!”

“Yeah, Mabel?”

“You don’t get out much, do you?”

“Well, no. But I’m busy quite often,” Dipper replied. Stanford and Stanley looked at each other. She made a mental note to ask why the boys looked at him like that.

“Well! I’ve been thinking: you’ve been spending years on this place! You’ve been looking for me for forever and you finally pulled me back into my home dimension! So, I think that deserves a celebration!” Grauntie Mabel grinned, showing off a gold tooth near the back. “Party! In the party room!” _Yeah, a party! That should get Dipper’s mind off things! Parties were always fun. Always._

“Wh-whoa! I don’t know if–I mean–” Dipper sputtered. “Who would you even be inviting?”

“Everyone!” Grauntie Mabel purred. “You’ve done so much already. I need to start reaching out to the rest of the family and–”

“No! Wait!” Grunkle Dipper cut her off. “Wait! Uh… that’s going to be hard to do on your own. How About you plan for the party and I’ll start gathering up addresses and such?”

“Okay!” Grauntie Mabel nodded. “We’re going to throw the best party, and everyone’s invited! Mabel’s back and ready to party!”

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

Pink and blue lights scanned the ground and set the sparkling dancefloor aglow. The snack tables heaved under the snacks, drinks, and supplies they held. Maria, her pretty pink dress waving about her ankles and her naturally dark hair tied up, played with the music station set up in the back. A great banner stating: “WELCOME BACK!” hung across the front of the room.

Grauntie Mabel stood next to Grunkle Dipper in the middle of the room. Grunkle Dipper had been forced to take a shower and thus made the kids clean up as well. While Grauntie Mabel wore bright triangular prism earrings that shattered the light, an orange-purple skirt that brushed her knees but failed to hide her armored leggings and black shoes, and a vibrant purple sweater, Grunkle Dipper wore his red shirt with a deep blue vest and a bow tie. She giggled and talked avidly to him. Although he grumbled, he smiled and jabbed her back.

Stanford, holding Gompers, stood in the doorway. His suit was a simple as well: a light blue tuxedo. Stanley wore a similar outfit, though it was pink with a small frill around his neck. The suits were both somehow made by their great aunt in the day she had to plan the party, make the invitations, find every person in town willing to give her three seconds to talk, and talk avidly with her friends. Even Gompers and Waddles dressed up, both of whom having bow ties and Waddles being black and white like a tux. Stanford took a deep breath, “Stanley?”

“Yeah, bro?”

“Will she notice if we don’t go in?”

“What’s the matter, Ford? You aren’t gunna raise the dead again, are you?”

“That was one time!” Stanford squawked. “But no, I’m not. I just… you remember that last party.”

“You just don’t wanna dance,” Stanley scoffed. “That last party was amazing! Until you started summoning the dead, of course.”

Stanford sighed.

Stanley looked around the corner. “Oh, hey! Come on!” He grabbed Stanford’s wrist and strode onto the floor. Fiddleford, Susan, and Ivan met them there.

Fiddleford, dressed up in his rough brown tux, held onto Ivan’s gloved hands. Ivan’s suit was darker, but quite a bit like Fiddleford’s. Susan’s dress was just as pretty and simple as the one she’d worn to their birthday party.

Fiddleford stated, “Dad was pretty surprised when Ah told him the good news.”

Ivan nodded. “He said that he hadn’t seen Mrs. Pines since he was a little kid.”

Fiddleford grinned. “Dad said she was the fun aunt, always sneakin’ him cookies, when grandma and grandpa weren’t lookin’.”

Susan nodded. “While we were in the diner, Mrs. Grenda wouldn’t stop talking about her. She was the happiest we’d seen in a long time, probably ever! Her son said that she was pretty fun to be around, which is all he could remember, really.”

People filtered in, chatting or looking around. Grauntie Mabel immediately greeted anyone that came near, somehow reciting their names as if she’d known them for years. Some of the older people, Fiddleford’s dad and older, recognized her a bit. Many of them recognized her quite a bit.

Stanford and Stanley split up, with Stanford talking to Fiddleford and Ivan and Susan walking with Stanley. Susan said, “So, why are we walking away?”

“Enjoyin’ the party of course!” Stanley scoffed. “Ford is such a nerd. We talk all the time. We don’t go to awesome parties all the time, though!”

“That’s true.” Susan’s gaze fell over Maria. “Hey, Stanley? You like this song, or should we change it to something more peppy?”

“Got a song in mind?”

“Taking over Midnight.” Susan giggled. “But we have to wait until Mrs. Pines is with her friends. Mrs. Grenda said that’s one of Mrs. Pines’ favorite songs.”

Stanley grinned. “Yes! Let’s go!”

The two ran up to Maria’s stand. When they found Mrs. Chiu, “Growling” Grenda, and Grauntie Mabel together, Stanley slapped his hand down on the table. “Hey, Maria! Could we request a song, _por favor?_ ”

“Oh course, _chicos._ What would you like?”

Susan piped up, “ _‘Taking Over Midnight’_ , by &ndra.”

“That is a fine choice! Old, but classic.” Maria shuffled through her things until she got to the song requested.

As the last song ended and the new one started, multiple things happened. Grauntie Mabel, “Growling” Grenda, and Mrs. Chiu paused their conversation and then grinned at each other. Grunkle Dipper’s gaze snapped to the music stage. Once he found the kids, he gave them the best _“Why would you do that?”_ look.

Once the lyric started, the three women sang along. Grauntie Mabel stammered at parts, probably because she hadn’t even been in this dimension since the song came out, but her friends bolstered her courage.

Eventually the song ended. Stanley looked to his side to see Susan gone. He pouted and looked over the crowd. Grunkle Dipper, who had been talking to Soos, was now on his own. Stanford, without Fiddleford or Ivan, walked up to Grunkle Dipper. Stanley shrugged and wandered off, preferably going to the food table. Grauntie Mabel walked past him. He looked back to see his great aunt lean over the table to whisper something to Maria with a wink. Maria nodded and started shuffling through her songs again. Then, his great aunt strolled up to him.

“Hey, Bear-food! What’s up?”

“Being abandoned to the dance floor. Suggesting really cool songs. You?”

“Setting up my brother for a dance,” she answered. “Hey, you wanna get _both_ our brothers on the dance floor? I know avoiding when I see it.”

Stanley’s cocky smile soon turned into a devilish grin. “On it!” Grauntie Mabel clicked her tongue and walked off. Stanley chuckled to himself. He was finally going to get his brother on the dance floor!

So, he snuck up behind the duo as they whispered urgently to one another.

“…I’ll bring you back, so we can change,” Grunkle Dipper said.

Stanford agreed, “Plan C: I bribe Fidds’ raccoon to go outside and tell Mabel there’s a cat out back.”

Stanley popped up behind them. “Plan D: you get caught!”

Stanford let out an adorably hilarious yelp and jumped. Grunkle Dipper dropped his cup, spilling soda over the floor in front of them. “Stanley!” came from both of them.

Grauntie Mabel swept up to Grunkle and patted his shoulder. “Hey, lady-killer. Remember me?”

Grunkle Dipper turned to face her. “Mabel, please. I’ve got this mess to clean up. I can’t stay here for long.”

Grauntie Mabel waved her hand with a dismissive huff. “Ah, it’s _fine._ We’ll clean it later.” She perked up. “Come on! You’re enjoying this party whether you like it or not!”

“I don’t think you are using the term ‘enjoying’ correctly!” Grunkle Dipper complained as his sister led him into the crowd.

Stanford picked up Grunkle Dipper’s cup. He started to run off when Stanley grabbed him by the back of the shirt. “Bro, come on!”

“Stanley!” Stanford stopped and waved him off.

“One dance.” Stanley shifted his grip to Stanford’s arm. “Only one dance. Promise.”

Stanford sighed. “Promise?”

Stanley nodded. “Promise.”

Stanford reluctantly said, “Alright. I will go on one dance.”

 _Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!_ “He-yah! Whoop!” Stanley laughed in victory and spun around. “I’m going to tell Grauntie Mabel!”

“I think she’s busy.”

On the dance floor, Grunkle Dipper was vainly trying to escape his sister’s grasp. However, it was futile. He was put on the dance floor. It wasn’t even a romantic song, so he didn’t have to dance with anyone. Grauntie Mabel, giving him constant encouragement and a peppy dance of her own, kept him in the song and lights.

Out of the corner of his eye, Stanley could see his brother nonchalantly trying to slip away. “Where are you goin’, Sixer?”

“Aren’t you, uh, going to find Susan?” Stanford prompted.

“Yeah, I will.” Stanley shrugged. “I mean, Really just to protect her from those other dudes ’cause, you know, she’s pretty and other dudes stink. Mhm.” _Susan could easily take care of herself. But that’s a great idea! He needed to tell her straight away!_

“Pretty much.”

Maria spoke into the microphone. “Ladies, gentlemen, your time.” The music changed. Although it was peppy and strong, it held the undertones of gentle romance. _Oh, this is too perfect. Thank you, Grauntie Mabel!_

Stanford glanced around. “You know, I think I need to go to the bathroom.”

Stanley took him by the shoulder. “Come on, dude. You promised one dance.”

“Yeah. There are plenty of dances after this,” Stanford agreed. Although his tone was cool and dismissive, it held undertones of defense and nervousness.

Stanley raised an eyebrow at him. “Come on, Ford! Relax! Partner up with someone and have a good time.” He glanced at Susan by the food table. A little ways behind her, Preston caught sight of her. He started toward Susan. Stanley narrowed his eyes at Preston and walked off. “I’m keeping you to that promise, bro!”

Stanley swooped over to Susan and leaned on the table, his back to Preston. He could feel the rich boy’s glare on the back of his head. “Hey, Susan! Guess what!”

Susan, holding a plate with marshmallows and crackers, prompted, “Yeah? Hey, did you change the music?”

Stanley shook his head. “Nope! Grauntie Mabel did. But–” he leaned toward Susan and lowered his voice. “–I got Sixer to start lookin’ for a partner.”

Susan’s eyes lit up. “Oh, you devil! I’ll be right back.” With that, she turned and ran off.

“Pfft. Ran her off, eh?”

Stanley turned around, a smirk of his own on his face. “Nope. Hey, where’d your posse go, anyway?”

“Parents called them back last minute,” Preston replied with a roll of his eyes. Look who the liar is now! “My moms forced me to go, anyway.”

“Really? Well, they’re pretty cool people.” Stanley shrugged. “Grauntie Mabel would’ve invited you, anyway.”

“She doesn’t know me.”

“Yeah, but she pretty much loves everyone. She’s real cool.”

“Yeah.” Preston looked over Stanley’s shoulder. Stanley glanced back. Stanford was awkwardly standing at the edge of the crowd. However, neither had a chance to even think about this before Fiddleford was there beside him. Stanford looked back, prompting the conversation. Fiddleford stumbled over his words a bit before blurting out a question, at which point he shut his mouth and his cheeks turned a reddish color. When Stanford didn’t speak, Fiddleford went on. Finally, Stanford mumbled something. Fiddleford offered his hand. The two walked into the crowd to find a better place.

Preston huffed, “I thought Farm-boy would ask him out. Actually, I thought he’d ask out Susan.”

“What? They wouldn’t date,” Stanley scoffed. “They’re not made for each other like Ford and Fidds are!”

“I mean before you two came here, dimwit. So, what? You’re going to ask her out?”

Stanley stuck out his tongue. “What? You didn’t seriously believe that, did you? We were teasing you. Nah, I got a girlfriend.” Stanley smirked. “She’s pretty awesome. So, why are you asking? Aren’t you and that prissy girl going out?”

Preston scoffed. “No! As if. I mean, I could if I wanted to, but I don’t feel like it. As if I’d want to go out with English Teacher, either.”

Stanley smirked. “She’s just not into you, is she?”

“Wh-what? What gave you that idea?” Preston recoiled and wrinkled his nose. “I could have her if I wanted to. Like I said, I just don’t feel like it right now.”

“Okay, dude, you’re gunna have to stop saying that.” Stanley snickered, holding up a hand. “Seriously, I think that’s part of the reason she won’t go out with you.”

Preston glowered at him now, a pinkish tinge coming to his cheeks. “Can you just not understand me, idiot?”

Stanley huffed, “Yeah, but I’m also pretty much an expert liar so I know one when I see one.”

Preston glared at him for a little while longer. “Oh, whatever. You’re just trying to start something, aren’t you?” He started to look away, but found his eyes in the direction of the dance floor and looked the other way.

Stanley looked into the crowd. Oh, there she was…. And there _he_ was. Priscilla, her smile wide, swung around in a dance with Preston’s other shadow–the rich kid who Stanley never bothered to learn the name of. “That’s cold, dude. She rejected you for your _friend._ ”

“She did not,” Preston hissed dangerously, still not looking at him or the crowd. Instead, he glowered at a half-full two-liter of Pitt Cola. “She just said she liked this song, but I was eating so Jessy took her out to dance. I-I’ve known her longer, anyway, and they don’t even talk that much so it doesn’t really count.”

“Whatever you say, bro.” Stanley rolled his eyes and looked at his brother. He and Fiddleford were in one of those simple dances they did at school dances. Stanford didn’t look at nervous as he was a few minutes ago. In fact, he was smiling and dancing with Fiddleford as if they’d done it a million times before. The song came to an end just as Fiddleford led him into a dip and they were so close their noses could touch. Stanley clapped, as did a few other people. Stanford’s exuberant expression turned to one of shock and fear. Fiddleford helped him stand up straight and reassured him. The next song began to play. Stanford sheepishly accepted another invitation to dance.

Stanley looked over the crowd. Grauntie Mabel danced a solo dance beside her brother. Dipper looked to be enjoying himself as well, now. Although he wasn’t dancing with a partner of his own, he was smiling and, when he tripped over himself, laughed instead of gasping and cringing.

Stanley turned to Preston, who was still fuming. “Hey, dude. See that?” Stanley jabbed his thumb in his great aunt and uncle’s direction.

Preston followed his direction. “Yeah? Your great aunt and uncle are having fun.”

“You could suck it up and dance,” Stanley pointed out. “I mean, my great uncle is allergic to girls but he’s having fun.”

“Oh, whatever. I’m just fine here.” Preston turned back to glaring at the soda.

“Whatever you say, man.” Stanley rolled his eyes. “I thought Ford got sulky.”

“I’m not _sulky._ ”

Stanley shook his head, smirking. “Yeah, and I’m not grabbing myself a drink.” He took a cup and plucked the two-liter Preston had been sending death glares at and poured himself a cup of soda. Preston glared at him, and then something behind him.

Stanley looked back. His smirk vanished. Standing beside him, his blue tux nice and neat and hands behind his back and bashful smile fading was Bud. “Um, hey, Stanley, Preston.”

“Hey, Bud.” Stanley turned to his drink. “What are you doing here?”

“Your, um, great aunt invited me,” Bud admitted. He gulped. “Um, d-do you remember the gift I gave you for your birthday?”

“The lamb shears? Yeah.”

“I… I really am sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t want to hurt you–any of you. I promise, I didn’t!”

“Well you did,” Stanley stated and threw a dark glare behind himself.

“Stanley!”

The three looked up to see Grauntie Mabel walking up to him. “What’s all this commotion about? Who are you, sweet-heart?”

“I’m Bud!” Bud answered, his smile returning. “Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Pines!”

Grauntie Mabel smiled. “Oh, it’s nothing! I thought everyone could do with some celebrating! So where are your parents?”

Bud’s smile wavered. He shrugged. “Um… gone, I guess. It’s just me and my grandpa.”

“Isn’t your grandpa in jail?” Stanley asked loudly.

Bud winced. Grauntie Mabel huffed, “Stanley! Now that was super rude!”

“Grauntie Mabel, his grandpa tried to kill us! He literally attacked Grunkle Dipper!”

Grauntie Mabel hesitated. “Really? Who was his grandfather?”

“Gideon. Why? You know hi-im?” Stanley’s voice faltered at the end.

Grauntie Mabel’s eyes narrowed, and she hissed in a venom he hadn’t heard her even think of using before. _“Gideon._ That little rat. Of course, he’d Try and hurt you and my bro. But he’s in jail, right? Well… that’s good.” She took a deep breath and smiled. “But you aren’t like your grandfather, are you Bud?”

Bud shook his head. “No! Not at all! I don’t want to hurt anyone. …Dad told me about you and how great you were. Then he told me that Stanley would probably be a really good friend like you, too.” He looked down at his feet. “But then he told me that Mr. Pines wasn’t. I-I didn’t know he was gunna hurt you!” He turned to Stanley. “He really did say I could bring you guys to the warehouse! He just wanted me to talk to you about that alone. I didn’t know he was gunna hurt you guys!”

“You tried to shear my great uncle!” Stanley hissed.

“I had to! They were f-fighting. I needed to take Dad’s side.”

“Even though your dad’s a raving lunatic.”

“Okay, kids,” Grauntie Mabel stated lightly. “I know that some really bad things happened in the past. But I think Bud is really trying to reach out to you, Stanley.” She smiled. “Hey, maybe without Gideon over his shoulder, he could be a good friend. Right, kid?”

Bud nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! I-I’ll try, Stanley! I’ll really try, I promise!”

Stanley glared at him for a little while longer before rolling his eyes. “Oh whatever.”

Grauntie Mabel chuckled. “I don’t hear a no! Hey! So, I was just wondering, nothing big. We’re inviting Pacifica over to our house tomorrow! I was wondering if you wanted to come, Preston. Pacifica and Tiffany said it was alright. They thought it’d be better if I asked you.”

“Or you just couldn’t wait,” Stanley put in.

“Oh, hush!”

Preston looked at Stanley and then Grauntie Mabel. “Uh, isn’t Mom, er, Tiffany going to be home alone?”

Grauntie Mabel shook her head. “Nah, She’s on work. Pacifica just thought that you’d like to spend some more time with Stanley! She says you guys are friends, so I thought to myself ‘why not?’ and here we are!”

Preston hesitated and then rolled his eyes. “Oh whatever. Mom’s going to make me come anyway.”

“That’s the spirit, kid! Now go on, it’s a party! Dance! They don’t even have the romantic songs on anymore.”

Stanley shrugged and strolled into the crowd. “Okay. See ya later!”

Preston was still very sourly not looking at the dance floor. Bud, losing his opportunity to talk to Stanley, tried speaking with him instead. Stanley ignored the two and spent the rest of the night on the dance floor. He’d steal glances at his brother on occasion. He and Fiddleford seemed to be having quite a bit of fun. Neither seemed to notice Stanley, or anyone else for that matter. Briefly, Stanley thought of Darlene. It would have been pretty fun to invite her over, if she didn’t live so far away.

As the night wound to an end, people left. Grauntie Mabel, Grunkle Dipper, and their friends had all left the dance floor and chatted avidly. Stanley watched as Dan snuck away, probably trying to get out of clean-up. That made sense. Ah, if only Stanley could escape that easily. He could try, though.

So, Stanley wandered off into the house. At least, he tried to nonchalantly slip away from the party. But a large hand on his shoulder stopped him. He winced and looked up. Grunkle Dipper raised an eyebrow at him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Uh… to the bathroom?” Stanley offered.

“How about you help empty those cans and help Maria put away her supplies?”

Stanley stuck his tongue out but did not disobey. Instead, he trudged off to scoop up the trash cans mostly full of trash. Not long after that, he met Maria at the back of the room. Evidently, she didn’t need too much help. It was mainly just putting CDs back in their cases and wheeling off equipment to their appropriate closets or places outside to be taken back after the party.

Stanley wheeled a rather large speaker outside. When he tried coming back, he saw Fiddleford and Stanford–food eaten and empty plates on their laps–sitting on the chairs against the wall. It wasn’t possible to pick up what they were saying from here, but that didn’t stop him from trying. He could go back around through the house, but they might get up and leave by then!

“Hey, Champ!”

Stanley jumped and bristled at the new voice behind him. He whipped around, hands behind his back, and a faux, nonsuspicious smile on his features. “Hey, I was just… Oh! Hey, Grauntie Mabel.” He relaxed and chuckled. “Whatcha up to?”

“Feeding Waddles and finishing up the party,” Grauntie Mabel admitted. “Wondering what you’re doing spying on your brother.”

“Spying? Me? What? No, no. No, I was, uh, was _not_ spying on anyone! Definitely! Even if I was, definitely not on Ford and Fidds. That’s crazy.” Stanley chuckled nervously. But, as he saw the skepticism his great aunt wore, he sighed and rolled his eyes. “Okay, maybe a little. But come on! I’ve been waiting _all summer_ for those two lovenerds to get together!”

“Really?” Grauntie Mabel’s eyes brightened. “That’s adorable! Oooh! You mean they _weren’t_ together before?”

Stanley shook his head. “Nope! Ugh it’s so dumb! So, Ford is so oblivious to Fidds obviously drooling over him and Fiddleford’s a super big wimp, so he doesn’t know how to ask him out. Everyone knows they’ve been totally crushing on each other but of _course_ they don’t get together.” Stanley hesitated. “You know… it’s so weird. ’Cause I could have sworn Ford was trying to get somewhere a while ago. Then he just shut up and has hardly even looked at him since!”

“What happened?” Grauntie Mabel’s smile was lost in a new look of concern.

“I don’t know!” Stanley huffed. “So, it was a few weeks ago. Just around the time Fiddleford got Ivan as his little brother, in fact.” Stanley explained the story about how Stanley, Fiddleford, and Dan rescued the Sev’ral Timez band and Ivan then how Ivan was eventually adopted by Tate. Halfway through telling the story, Stanley remembered the part about how Stanford and Grunkle Dipper went out to break up Dan and Janice. Grauntie Mabel got a weird look about her, but it was gone pretty quickly so Stanley decided not to comment on it. Just to be sure Grauntie Mabel knew the severity of Janice, he put in remarks about her bullying. “And then Ford’s been actin’ differently! It’s so weird. Then there was the whole thing about the cult, but Fidds was helpin’ us in the end, so we didn’t hold anything against him.”

“That is awful,” Grauntie Mabel commented. “I’ll talk to Dipper. You go help your brother clean up, alright?”

“Okay!” Stanley grinned and walked into the mostly empty party room. Grauntie Mabel had a lot of spirit and was really fun and got Grunkle Dipper to be not-so-jumpy about everything. She could definitely find out what was going wrong.

Stanford and Fiddleford were by the table. But, as Stanley approached, Fiddleford threw away a bottle and left with a tired goodbye. Stanford threw goodbye back at him as he finished crushing and then throwing the last of the empty bottles of soda in the recycling bin.

Stanley popped up beside him. “Ahh! Ford!”

Stanford let out an admittedly hilarious scream and dropped the bottle he held. He spun around and glowered at Stanley. “Dangit, Stanley! Stop that!”

Stanley’s wide grin didn’t falter. “So, Grauntie Mabel’s making me help clean this mess up.” He strolled over to the chips and started rolling up the open bags. “I saw you on the dancefloor, by the way. You even made Susan stop dancing to watch You. Who taught you how to do that?”

“Fiddleford,” Stanford gave Stanley the expected answer. “He offered to teach me since, you know, no one else was available.”

“Ah, okay.” A sneaky grin found its way onto Stanley’s face, his voice becoming a bit too smooth and sly for the casual conversation he was pretending to engage. “Maybe I should ask him for lessons, then?”

“Uh, no. You already know how to dance,” Stanford said too quickly. He looked away and instead turned his attention to the clean-up. Stanley watched him walk around, pointedly ignoring Stanley’s searching gaze. Stanley didn’t comment further. Still, it was hilarious to watch his brother walk around like that.

That night, Stanford collapsed into bed, though he hardly looked to be asleep. Stanley, too tired to continue egging his brother on, lay down. He was asleep in seconds.

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

Dipper looked over the large, empty room one more time. Mabel had called it the party room, but Dipper had spent quite a long time calling it a parlor. Well, whatever fit. Mabel _did_ buy the house in the first place. He shouldn’t complain. They all had fun, and no one got hurt! In fact, he’d seen Bud, Preston, and Stanley talking. For once, Stanley didn’t seem _too_ sarcastic–in a bad way, at least. Mabel had commented that Preston had the same foul look Pacifica did when Mabel first started getting to her. Then again, he’d seen a very dark look on Mabel’s face after talking with Bud for a little bit, but it had gone away.

“Hey, Dipper!”

Dipper, only jumping a little bit at her call, turned around. “Hey, Mabel!”

Mabel sauntered up to him, her sleeping baby space hog in her arms. “So, the boys fell asleep and everyone’s gone home and the party room’s all cleaned up! Neat, huh?” She looked over the space. “Grenda has three children and six grand-children so far, Candy only has Tate, Fiddleford and Ivan, since she got a divorce from her husband–” A sad, dark look passed over her before she shook it off. “–and Gideon’s in jail but his little grandson was Bud! Did he really attack you?”

Dipper sighed. “Yep. I was so stupid as to believe that maybe since it’s been forty odd years that he wasn’t going to be doing anything. I was wrong.”

“What happened?”

Dipper hesitantly told her the story of how he found out Bud and Stanley had become friends and made a shaky deal, at best, with Gideon that Bud was allowed to hang out with Stanley as long as Gideon didn’t do anything rash. But he did, and he hurt Stanford and nearly got Fiddleford. Or after that when he got the deed to the Shack and then had a giant robot built, which he used to nearly kill Stanley and Stanford. It was then that he’d been arrested.

Mabel frowned and looked down at Waddles. “…do you think if I’d listened to you and never dated him that he wouldn’t have done all this? That if I’d broken up with him instead of making you do it, he wouldn’t have _sought revenge on our family_ or something?”

“He’s insane, Mabel,” Dipper stated. “He was just crazy and dangerous, and you happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Mabel nodded and then looked up at him. She smirked and chuckled. “Wow, you’re so serious! Hey, I was talking with Stan. You helped break up Jan and Dan?”

Dipper grimaced. _Oh no._ “Yes, well, Janice was very obviously mind controlling Dan. Besides, Lee told me Janice was a bully.”

Mabel stroked Waddles. “And what about Ford?”

“Ford? What about him?” Dipper asked, blinking. He didn’t do anything to Ford did he?

“Stan said he’d been acting all weird since you took him over to Jan and Dan.”

Dipper raised an eyebrow. What was she talking… oh. _Oh no._ He should probably get Ford to call up Janice’s parents, because a coffin is what he might need soon.

“I see that look on your face. Dipper, you didn’t get all depressing on him, did you?”

 _“Stanford, if you can, please spare yourself the pain and leave well enough alone.”_ Dipper started, “Well I–no. No, I didn’t.” He shook his head. “It was a pretty downcast night, you know. And he’s pretty shy.” _Kinda like me, I suppose._ “Why do you ask?”

Mabel shrugged. “Oh, Stanley told me he was acting weird is all.”

“They’re great brothers.”

Mabel chuckled. “Yep! Oh, man. You remember when we were their age?”

“Ugh! Don’t remind me!” Dipper groaned, warranting a friendly shove from Mabel.

“You were so awkward and adorable!”

“We’re the same age,” Dipper reminded her.

“Girls mature faster than boys.”

“Yeah? Well, we’re both grown up, now,” Dipper pointed out. “And you look dead exhausted! You should be getting to bed.”

Mabel shook her head. “Me? Tired? _Nah._ But you on the other hand, need some sleep!”

“Yeah, that I do.” Dipper stifled a yawn and started toward his room. The two walked side-by-side down the hall. “Just promise you’ll get some sleep, alright?”

Mabel smiled and chuckled. “Of course, bro-bro! Don’t be such a worry-wart!”

 _I can’t help it!_ “Heh. Yeah, I guess.” Dipper stopped by his door while Mabel walked on to her room, just down the hall. He looked back. _Just talk to her! Tomorrow she’ll just be too busy celebrating with her friends over something or other. She needs to know her bounds. She’ll just overstep and put them in danger. She doesn’t know what she’s doing. Just call her! She’ll understand!_ Dipper took a breath to call her. Yet, as he tried to speak, he choked on his words. _No, she’ll take it the wrong way. She was already pretty beaten up over accidentally summoning Probabilitor. So, she should know to be careful by now, right? She threw that great party, after all!_ Mabel shut the door behind her. Dipper sighed and shut the door behind himself.

Tomorrow is another day.

 

NAP, FYQEC’L ZPCB! ECI’S TXJTBITRT WZMF AOKL MU GITLSELK YCD JNEPR! RGB LHP GMI IEVJJDV LMBE FEB TNVFGTS?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victory! I knew I’d be able to put this party somewhere. Grunkle Dipper really is too much of a push-over. Next thing you know he’ll be letting her be in charge of stuff! Eh-hehe, yeah that would be funny. Right? Everyone loves a party.  
>  _See the party from[Stanford's POV](http://fav.me/dbl9rwc)!_  
>  _Also, posting this a day early because tomorrow's my birthday and I won't be active. :)_
> 
>  
> 
> 5: _Lece Kpbve Qtedl Sesvm yi Sktlaep’l Btstkgetzhl Quk Mft Prkrn Wrl Djn._


	13. Shield Cubed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wants to be heard, and there is nothing that can stop him when his wi **l** l and desire is there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find the Title Card on dA:

Above the valley of Gravity Falls, the full moon cast an eerie glow over the pine forest. The houses glowed under the dim silver light. Stanley and Stanford slept peacefully in their beds. The book “The Sibling Bros inc. ~ The Fable of the Unstoppable Table” was left open on Stanford’s chest and his glasses stayed skewed on his face. One of Stanley’s hands brushed the floor, his fingers now tangled in his sheet.

Down in Mabel’s room, which was by now ripe with papers, books, bags, and a few untouched sweets that had a suspicious glimmer to them, littered the shelves, crumpled on the floor, and took up room on the couch Mabel slept on. Waddles curled up in a dog bed with his name on it. Like Stanford, she seemed to have gone to bed at an awkward time with her day clothes still donned.

 

Immediately, Mabel looked over the wheat field she found herself in. Nearby, a teeter totter glinted in the half-light. The torn portal lay in ruins behind her. The shade cast by a broken RV didn’t reach far. It was as if the light source above, which seemed to be a moon obscured by clouds, didn’t throw the shadows like it should have.

For a moment, Mabel’s gaze stayed over the broken RV. Where was she…?

Flattened behind her, the wheat was crushed, and a bright light lit up over the wheat. Mabel jumped as the wheat flattened around her to create the image of a triangle with arms, legs, and a top hat. Once the wheat settled, the flattened area glowed blue. An echoing laugh rose from the plains like that of a hyena stealing dinner from a lion.

“E-eh, I recognize that laugh!” Mabel’s muscles tensed. “Bill! Show yourself!” She stared at the sky and then spun around as a blue laser erupted from the earth into the cloudy sky. Her hair rushed back as the wind picked up around her. The wind was not heavy enough to faze Mabel, but the light that burst from the laser was enough to make her reflexively hold an arm over her eyes.

Right as the light faded, and Mabel lowered her arms and opened her eyes, she saw Bill floating before her, hands on his sides and bright eye staring down at her. “ **WELL, WELL, WELL,** ” Bill started to duplicate until his duplicates surrounded Mabel.  **“-WELL, WELL, WELL, WELL, WELL, WELL, WELL, WELL!** ” Bill spread his arms out in front of him and the entire circle spun as all copies followed the movements of the original. “ **AREN’T YOU A SIGHT FOR SORE _EYE?_** ” He clasped his hands together. “ **MABEL PINES, MY OLD PAL!** ”

Eying the demonic triangle, Mabel growled, “Bill Cipher, you’re not my friend! What do you want?”

“ **NOW, QUIT PLAYING DUMB, SHOOTING STAR!** ” One Bill put an arm around her shoulders while another ruffled her hair. “ **YOU KNEW I’D BE BACK!** ” The Bill who ruffled her hair flicked her nose. Mabel winced and put a hand on her nose. “ **YOU THINK SHUTTING DOWN THAT PORTAL COULD STOP WHAT I HAVE PLANNED?** ” The Bills turned into brilliant blue smoke and reformed into one Bill as big as the Space Shack. Mabel looked up at Bill as he spoke. “ **I’VE BEEN MAKING DEALS, CHATTING WITH OLD FRIENDS, PREPARING FOR THE BIG DAY!** ” He clapped his hands together. “ **YOU CAN’T KEEP THAT RIFT SAFE _FOREVER._** ” The last word echoed as if they were in a metal room. He held up one hand and snapped his fingers. In a puff of blue flame, an illusion of the dimensional rift floated above his hand. “ **YOU’LL SLIP UP! AND WHEN YOU DO…** ” Bill’s hand grasped the dimensional rift. He threw it on the ground, causing it to shatter and the rift to leak.

The very air burst and tore to reveal a psychedelic purple universe crossed by what could have been clouds. Fires popped out of the ground and consumed the dreamscape Mabel stood in.

Mabel glanced at the smoking, dying ground under her worn boots and glared up at Bill. “Get out of here! You have no power in our world!”

In a pitch-black silhouette with one glowing orange eye, Bill stared down at her. “ **MAYBE NOT RIGHT NOW, BUT THINGS CHANGE, MABEL PINES!** ” Bill’s voice grew deep and grumbling as he ascended into the rift. The fires around the dreamscape turned into a roaring fire tornado with Mabel in the epicenter. “ **THINGS… CHANGE…!** ”

 

Now Mabel threw off her blanket as she sat up. For a moment, she looked about, breathing heavily, not understanding where she was. She looked over her mildly disturbed room. Waddles honked blearily and hopped onto her bed, wriggling under her arms and shutting his eyes again. She gulped and leveled out her breathing. “I’ve got to warn them,” she breathed and put a hand to her forehead, which was covered in a light sheen of cold sweat. “He’s coming.”

 

Daytime, summer sunlight warmed the Valley. Birds chirped, and squirrels chittered as the branches they clung to waved in the wind. Stanford and Stanley stopped beside a closet and opened it. Stanley rubbed his hands in excitement as the two looked over the dark closet.

Stanford announced, “Alright, Grunkle Dipper has to have some decent games in here.” Multiple board game boxes covered in dust and cobwebs stacked up by a vacuum.

“Eh-huh.” Stanley listed off, “Let’s see…  _‘Battlechutes & Ladderships’,_  _‘Necronomiconopoly’,_   _‘Don’t Wake Stalin’_ ,  _‘Connect Forty-Four’_ …”

Then Stanford picked up a board game whose exterior was like that of a jungle. Two kids geared up in exploring garb screamed as they looked at the giant snake and large rhino that approached them from either side of the cover. “What Could Go Wrong: The Game” was at the top with a long string at the bottom bearing the words: “The last players who opened this box didn’t make it out ALIVE!”

Moment of silence. Stanley shrugged. “Well, I know what we’re doing today.”

“Ah-huh. This should take up the next twenty-one minutes,” Stanford agreed.

Killing the downstairs silence was Grauntie Mabel’s call, “FAMILY MEETING!” The kids looked back. “FAMILY MEETING!”

 

Entranced by the mystery book he read under the gentle summer’s sunlight, Grunkle Dipper sat on the couch on the porch.

Suddenly, Grauntie Mabel yelled, “FAMILY MEETING!” Grunkle Dipper turned his head as he heard his sister calling. “FAMILY MEETING!”

 

At the Space Shack, Stanley and Stanford walked into the living room. Grauntie Mabel currently stood over the living room table, scrolls, books, a bag, and even a few potions spread out on the wood. “Ah, kids!” Grauntie Mabel didn’t look up, but sat down. “Come in, come in.”

Bravely, Stanley ran up to the table and jumped onto the first chair. “Oh-ho! Mystery scrolls and potions and–oh! An old timey bag! Are we finally old enough to go to Wizard School?”

Immediately, Grauntie Mabel took the bag away from him. “No, no! Heh. I’m sorry, but there is no such thing as Wizard School in this dimension.” Stanley frowned and sat down. Stanford hopped into the Seat next to him.

Grauntie Mabel picked up a scroll and turned it around so that they could see its contents. “Do either of you recognize  _this_  symbol?” The top of the scroll was covered in weird hieroglyphs. The scroll was taken over by a large image of Bill Cipher.

“Do…” Then, the boys gasped. Stanford’s gaze hardened. “Bill.”

“I–You… you  _know_  him?” Grauntie Mabel’s eyes grew wide.

“Fft! Know him? He’s been terrorizing us all summer!” Stanford exclaimed. He put a hand to his head. “I-I have so many questions a-and theories and…!”

“Ford’s been  _really_  paranoid since Bill possessed him,” Stanley explained.

“Eh, the important thing is we defeated him twice!” Stanford cut in.

“Right! Once with lasers and once with punches!” Stanley exclaimed. Stanford winced at the memory of the  _second_  defeat.

Engaged by the dreadful story, Grauntie Mabel shook her head. “The fact that you’ve dealt with Bill is very,  _very_  serious.”

“Now, how do  _you_  know him?” Stanford prompted.

Curiously, Grauntie Mabel twitched her fingers. “I’ve encountered many dark beings in my time, Ford. What matters is that his powers are growing stronger. If he pulls off his plans,  _no one_  in this family will be safe!”

Especially interested in  _this_  news, Stanley gasped and looked at Stanford, whose concern only grew.

Grauntie Mabel laid out an old map of the first story of the house. It was labeled “HOUSE PLANS”. “Fortunately for us, there should be a way to  _Bill-proof_  the Shack.” She tapped various places on the map. “All I have to do is put moonstones here, here, and here, sprinkle some mercury and…” She hesitated and narrowed her eyes. “I always forget the last ingredient!”

Stanford picked up one of her scrapbooks and opened it to the page about unicorns. “Unicorn h–”

“No,” Grauntie Mabel crossed, a dark look entering her eyes. “Unicorns are out of the picture. Never talk to me about unicorns.” Stanford gently closed the scrapbook.

“Then what are we gunna do?” Stanley asked.

Mabel looked through her bag and hesitantly pulled out a metal cube. “Well, I mean, I found this really cool trinket in the  _Dimension of Absurdly Complicated Puzzles_  that could complete the shield, but no one’s unlocked it before. It would take some kinda super-genius to crack this thing!”

Stanford’s eyes lit up. “Oh! Oh, let me try! I bet I can get it opened!”

“You sure?” Grauntie Mabel prompted.

“Yeah! I do all kinds of puzzles and I deciphered your whole scrapbook and I’m the top in every one of my classes,” Stanford boasted.

Stanley nodded. “He’s pretty ridiculously smart.”

“Okay. Well, it’s worth a try.” Grauntie Mabel hadn’t even let go of the cube completely before Stanford snatched it. “And take this. I don’t know if they’ll help, but it’s worth a try.” She gave him Scrapbook Two. “Now go get ’em, kid!”

“I’ll be back!” Stanford called and, clutching the cube to his chest, raced up the stairs.

Stanley watched him go before turning to Grauntie Mabel. “So, do you think Ford will get that thing working?”

Grauntie Mabel packed up her things and stood up. “I believe in your brother, Stan, but… I don’t know anyone who could unlock that thing.”

Stanley held his hands behind his back. “So, what about Bill?”

Grauntie Mabel tipped her head back and walked to the gift shop. Stanley flipped the “OPEN” sign to “CLOSED” and ran to his great aunt’s side. She pressed a button on her watch. The vending machine swung open with a  _hiss_  as the difference in air pressure and composition along with the vacuum created by the opening door led to a clash. As soon as the two were inside the cement hallway, the vending machine was shut. Grauntie Mabel typed a quick code into the elevator and stepped in. Their destination was Level Two.

“Welcome to my private study,” Grauntie Mabel announced as she opened a very ornate wooden door. Stanley looked about with round eyes. Bookshelves that reached the ceiling and spanned the walls stood overloaded with books. Desks held globes, figurines, prisms, notes, gadgets, and gear. Next to a spiral staircase was a collection of giant TVs flanked by filing cabinets and smaller tech still too big for Stanley to hold. A memory gun sat on a desk and tarps covered multiple objects, most of them large and square. This room wasn’t as decorated so flamboyantly like he would have expected. Grauntie Mabel led him inside. “It’s a place where I keep my most secret things. Not even Dipper knows about this place.”

Stanley hesitated by what looked like a portrait twice his height mostly buried under a sheet. When he pulled at the bottom edge, Grauntie Mabel raised her voice a bit to catch Stanley’s attention, “Stan! Come on!” Stanley dropped the tarp and ran after her. Grauntie Mabel stopped in front of the set of TVs. “If we can’t Bill-proof the Shack, we’re going to Have to do the next best thing.” She opened the lone drawer under the TVs and picked up something that looked like a cross between a strainer and a helmet. A giant cord attached from it to something inside of the drawer. A stick poked out one end with graspers like insect legs or a spine. When she flipped the switch, the little graspers flicked outward.

Stanley’s eyes went round.  _What was that thing? Why did it look so… ominous?_

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

Stanford plopped down in the back yard of the Shack, near the tree line. Books spread out around him, scrapbook before him, papers held down by rocks and puzzle cube in his hands, Stanford sat-crossed and staring at the cube. “Alright, puzzle! Prepare to be solved!” He looked over the cube. At first, it looked like a Cubic’s Cube with numbers on each panel rather than colors and twenty-five panels on each side. Yet, the numbers were all wrong and shuffled and there were higher numbers than the amount of sides. Designs shallow and deep etched into each square face. Stanford bounced the cube in his hand a bit. It was light, oddly. Stanford looked over the numbers. He twisted the cube like a Cubic’s Cube to try to line up one of the rows. The numbers flashed red and scrambled again. This time, he spotted “twenty-six” on one of them. Stanford narrowed his eyes. “This might be more complicated than I thought.”

He flipped it a few more times. Each time it blinked red and shuffled again. “Ugh! How can I solve it if it keeps re-shuffling itself?” His finger pressed down on “three” on accident as he tried shuffling it. It flared in red light before dimming. Curious, he pressed another number. It flashed in red light. Unfortunately, every number he pressed flashed in red light. Frustrated, he pressed two letters at the same time. It flashed in red light each time he pressed down on them.

Stanford set down the cube and started flipping through his journals and the scrapbook.

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

In Grauntie Mabel’s lab, Stanley sat down on a stool in front of the TVs. Grauntie Mabel set the mind machine on his head like a helmet. The two claw-like things snapped around his face and nearly touched his nose and mouth to keep itself steady. A monitor nearby immediately flashed on and a line inside spiked and moved like a heart monitor. The TV screens glowed deep green with light letters and numbers moving across it.

Stanley looked back at Grauntie Mabel as she flipped switches and typed In things. “So, what is Bill?” Stanley prompted and picked up a file labeled “CIPHER FILE” from an open drawer in the filing cabinet.

“No one really knows,” Grauntie Mabel explained, still not taking her eyes off her work. “Everything about him is just a legend, all types of people say different things about where he came from and what he wants.” Stanley looked through pictures and documents of Bill, references to Bill in history, and basic information. “I know that he’s older than our galaxy and  _far_  more evil.” Stanley reached the last page and unfolded it, as it had been folded into thirds. One third labeled “OUR WORLD” held a human skull with eyeballs and outline of a head. The second saying “MIND SCAPE” held part of its skull growing narrower near the middle and expanding near the end like taffy. A person stood talking to Bill inside of a large swath of dark gray from the person’s outline. The third reading “NIGHTMARE REALM” was a large orb of dark gray with the very end of the skull and a large picture of Bill. “Without a physical form, he can only project himself into our thoughts through the mindscape.” Grauntie Mabel held up the rift inside of its snow-globe container. “That’s why he wants this. I dismantled the portal, but with this, Bill has a way into our world. He would trick or possess  _anyone_  to get his hands on this rift.”

Stanley looked up at his great aunt. “So, how do we keep Bill out of our minds?”

Grauntie Mabel put away the rift and explained, “There are plenty of ways to do it. I had a metal plate installed in my head!”

Stanley half-smiled. “Er–heh. Good one.”

Grauntie Mabel knocked on the side of her head. Instead of a  _thunk_  like Stanley expected, the sound of someone knocking on a metal wall of a cluttered fish tank came in response.

Stanley cleared his throat and kicked his legs.

“But this machine is safer,” Grauntie Mabel explained. “It will scan your thoughts and bioel… uh, bioelectically? Er, scan and encrypt them so that Bill can’t read your thoughts. Now say hello your mind!” She held up a remote and pressed a button. The screen flickered and changed. Jumbled words and sentences moved across the screen, all being read aloud in Stanley’s voice. Some of the louder ones were the thoughts Stanley had most recently or right then.  _“I can’t believe I’m with the author.” “What is this thing?” “How’s Darlene doing?” “I hope Ford’s alright…”_  swam across the screen along with different images buried beneath the words.

Stanley turned to his great aunt. “You never told me about your relationship with Bill.”

Grauntie Mabel knelt beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Stan, do you trust me?”

“Well, yes, but–”

“Then you must  _trust_  that that’s not important.” Grauntie Mabel turned to the screen. “Now focus. It’s time to strengthen your mind.”

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

Stanford groaned and glared at his calculator. “There can’t possibly be an infinite amount of solutions! Uuuuuuugh. So, I can’t just randomly guess solutions. I’m going to have to figure this out rationally.” He set down his calculator and picked up the cube. It flashed in red when he pressed a button and when he twisted it. “What sort of pattern do you need, anyway? All one number on each side? A pattern of numbers on each side? Urgh! Isn’t there some type of key I can use?” He shuffled through the scrapbook again.

“Come on, a type of code?” He rifled through his journal and started examining every paper he brought with him in a great amount of detail. “There are numbers, the smallest being one and the largest being twenty-six. That means it  _could_  be a substitution code…?” He looked at the cube and inspected it again. “But there’s only twenty-five squares on each side. One letter is missing. That letter is…  _e._  Really? The most used letter in the alphabet?”

He glared at the thing’s shiny surface. Random numbers covered each twenty-five-piece side. Stanford took a deep breath. “Don’t get frustrated. Geniuses from other dimensions haven’t cracked it, so it’s going to be hard. That’s the  _point!_  It’s meant to stop Bill, and that has to be a miracle of some sort.” Stanford pressed the center button on opposite sides of the cube. They flash green. Before Stanford could celebrate, the puzzle scrambled itself again–all but the two green buttons Stanford was still holding–and then… “They’re  _letters?!_ ” The numbers had changed into letters. He pressed one. It flashed red and the green numbers he’d pressed turned red and changed into letters. Stanford groaned and shook his head. “This is going to take a while.”

Stanford decided to write down all the letters on each of the six sides and start finding patterns. Maybe it was like a crossword? But, there weren’t any words in them. All letters were only used once on each side, so no letter repeated and only one letter was missing. Somehow, no words appeared. He tried shuffling them through each cipher he knew, but those didn’t yield any results, either. Unfortunately, when he tried pressing the center piece of opposite sides of the cube, the letters morphed into strange alien symbols and flashed red. The ones he held down didn’t even turn green or stay as letters in the standard alphabet.

 

Eventually, Stanford ran out of paper and went inside to grab lunch. Grunkle Dipper prompted, “Any luck?”

“Pfft. No.” Stanford huffed as he grabbed a sandwich from the fridge. “Nothing! It’s insane! This puzzle is crazy!”

“Do you mind if I take a look at it?” Grunkle Dipper prompted.

Stanford took it out of his jacket and set it on the table by his great uncle. “Sure. I’m gunna eat lunch and then get back to it.”

“Take it easy, alright?” Grunkle Dipper looked over it. When he twisted it, it shuffled and flashed red. “Well, guess it’s not like a Cubic’s Cube.”

“Mhm.”

Grunkle Dipper inspected the thing, running his fingers over the metal and inspecting the alien symbols. “So, I’m guessing Mabel found this crazy thing and decided to keep it?”

“She said it could be used to make the shield.”

“Hmmm, yeah. Well, I hope she has a good back-up plan.”

“I can solve it!” Stanford yapped. “I’m good enough!”

“I didn’t say you weren’t,” Grunkle Dipper stated calmly and set it down. “I’m simply saying: ‘what if it’s impossible’? It’s from an alien planet and no one’s ever solved it before.”

Stanford looked at the puzzle. “W-well… well that’s just because no one needed to solve it like I do!” He snatched the thing and, abandoning half his lunch, ran outside. He stopped and looked down at his place. “But… maybe Grunkle Dipper’s right. Maybe I’ll need some help. Who’s smart, patient, and good with puzzles?” An idea popped into his head and he laughed. “Of course!”

 

Stanford walked into the bait shop on the side of the lake. Tate looked over the counter. “Howdy, Ford!”

“Hello, Mr. McGucket!” Stanford called back. “Do you know where Fiddleford is?”

“Yep. He an’ Ivan have been in his room all day.”

“Oh okay. Can I talk to him, please?”

“Go on ahead. If they snuck in a welder, tell 'em ta give it back, would ya?”

“Yes, sir!” Stanford strode down the hallway. A new picture of the whole McGucket family in Gravity Falls hung on the wall farther down. Candy and Ivan were in this one. Stanford stopped and knocked on Fiddleford’s door. “Hello?”

The door opened. His best friend, hair messy and now wearing overalls and gloves, stood at the door. “Hey? Ford! It’s nice seein’ ya. What’s up?”

“Hey, I got this really complex puzzle and I need a bit of help with it,” Stanford admitted. “Do you have a few hours?”

“Hours?” Fiddleford echoed. “That must be a doozy of a puzzle. Ah’m afraid not. Ah promised Ivan Ah’d teach him how to work with some a’ ma tools.”

Ivan, wearing the same thing as he brother, sat on the floor near the middle of the room beside a half-taken-apart robot hippocampus. He waved. “Hey! Fiddleford’s really smart!”

Fiddleford chuckled. “Thanks, Ivan!” He cleared his throat. “What does it look like, an’way?”

Stanford brought out the cube. “I don’t know how fragile it is and I don’t know how it works.”

Fiddleford gently took it from him. “Ooooh, a pretty one, isn’t she?” He took out a flashlight and shone the light between the cracks. He hooked his gloved finger under one of the squares. It popped off easily. Strangely, the ejected square went completely blank. Stanford sucked in his breath and caught it. “Oh no!”

“That was a bit too easy,” Fiddleford stated, flashing a light in the hole left behind. He whistled. “Look a’ this!” Underneath of it, tiny wires and colors flashed and slithered over the maroon surface of the cube. “Stanford? Did ya say you were needin’ this fer something? Ah mean, if ya give me a while, Ah might be able ta find a way to solve it–or make it solve itself.”

Stanford gently took it away from him and stuck the fallen piece back in it. “Actually, I need to solve it to help make a shield to protect the Shack from weirdness.”

“Oh. Well, Ah don’t know how ta help ya there, Ford,” Fiddleford admitted.

Ivan got up. “Hey! If it’s to protect the Shack, I’d be okay with working on that instead.”

Fiddleford looked back. “Really?”

Stanford hid a grimace. “Actually… you’re right. You should keep working on that. I’ll get this solved on my own. Knowing that this is actually a machine helped, though!”

“Ya sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Thank you for the help!” Stanford grinned, put away the puzzle, and walked away. He needed to get this done, not wait for hours for Fiddleford to try and explain complex machinery to his ten-year-old recently-adopted brother! Or, worse, make  _Stanford_  explain complex ciphers and puzzles. Ivan wasn’t dumb, but he was also ten. But, knowing Fiddleford, he would get really protective of Ivan and just get mad at Stanford for singling him out or pointing out the obvious.

Stanford plopped down in his place near the Space Shack and went back to studying the puzzle.

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

In Grauntie Mabel’s lab, Stanley sat on the stool with the mind machine on. He glanced back at the largest monitor, that read “SCANNING THOUGHTS: 15%” “Ugh! This is takin’ too long.” He put his hands on the helmet. “How long have I had this thing on?” His gaze fell on his great aunt, who was sitting by her desk, head on her folded arms, and deep asleep. “Why does Grauntie Mabel have to be so mysterious all the sudden? I can handle the truth. Definitely.”

Behind him, his thoughts spoke aloud. “ _I wonder what Grauntie Mabel is thinking.” “Use the machine!” “It’ll show you her thoughts.”_

Stanley sighed. “That’s a bad idea. I really shouldn’t…”

 _“She won’t know,”_  his thoughts on the machine contradicted.  _“She’s going to tell you eventually.” “The more you know about Bill, the more you can help.”_

Stanley smirked. “I’m good at rationalizing.”

 _“Yes, you are!”_  the machine agreed, the thought repeating over and over again.

Stanley walked over to Grauntie Mabel and took off his own helmet. He set it on the sleeping old woman’s head. “Just a peek…” He turned around to Look at the monitors. “What are you hiding about Bill?”

The screen immediately changed. As she wasn’t conscious, her thoughts were translated into pictures. Bill dominated the largest screen, blue fire reigning chaos behind him. He cackled his bone-chilling laugh. The main screen flicked to one of Grauntie Mabel tossing and turning, unable to sleep. In one of the smaller monitors, a younger version of Mrs. Chiu had Mabel in a corner. “What are you hiding? Where are you getting all these ideas? Who are you working with?” The portal, working, was on another monitor.

The screens changed. The main one was the “TRUST NO ONE” page, where he was writing the words. The left top monitor stated in bold red words “I’M LOSING” the monitor next to it said in the same format “MY MIND”.

The screens changed again. The main showed Grauntie Mabel talking with Stanley again. “He would trick or possess anyone.” The top two screens showed her eyes behind glasses. Then, it changed. The main screen held Mabel in her youth, one hand extended and his eyes bright. She stood in what looked like a dreamy forest. The other two monitors just stayed focused on her face. “So, it’s a deal–from now until the end of time.”

The screen switched to Bill, his burning hand extended. “ **JUST LET ME INTO YOUR MIND, MABEL!** ” The top screens were close-ups of Bill’s eye.

The main screen switched to show them shaking hands. Blue fire burned over both of their hands and wrists. “Please,” Mabel stated. “Call me a friend!”

Worst of all was the last screen, where Mabel, her pupils in slits and eyes yellow, laughed in the double voice of herself and Bill.

“M-Mabel and Bill?” Stanley breathed. There was a shuffle behind him. Stanley whipped around.

Grauntie Mabel, completely awake, pushed herself out of her chair and away from her desk. The poor glow reflected off her reading glasses, revealing nothing but what was on the screen. “You shouldn’t have done that,” she stated in a somber voice. She took off the helmet and attempted to put it down. It fell and clattered to the ground. The sheets were pulled off the walls. Stanley’s eyes grew round, and his heartbeat skyrocketed. Paintings of Bill dominated the space as well as a gold statue. His one eye stared down at him from all angles.

Stanley gulped and turned to confront his great aunt. “Why were you shaking hands with Bill?” was all he could choke out. “You said Bill could possess anyone so he could get this!” Stanley’s gaze flicked to the rift beside him. He snatched it and gasped as, in his rush, he nearly dropped it.

“Careful!” Grauntie Mabel held out one hand and walked toward him. Stanley withdrew into himself and, with each stride Grauntie Mabel took, Stanley took two. “It’s alright. Hand me the rift,” Grauntie Mabel ordered, her voice going soft.

Stanley had to physically stop himself from obeying the order and instead backed away further. “Why were you really scanning my thoughts?” Stanley demanded. His gaze flicked to the memory gun on the table. He snatched it and pointed it at Grauntie Mabel. “Are you Bill? Right now?”

“Stop this. You’re going to break that,” Grauntie Mabel countered as she continued to advance. “Hand me the rift. Calm down, m–”

“Maceral?” Stanford blurted out. “Is that what you were going to say?”

“I was going to say ‘maybe this is a big misunderstanding’.”

Stanley’s back hit the wall. His breath immediately started to come in gasps. The gun shook in his hand. “I was told to p-protect the rift! Stay back o-or I’ll erase you right out of Grauntie Mabel’s head!”

Grauntie Mabel held up her hands and stopped moving. “It’s me, Stan. Your aunt. Trust me. Please. I won’t hurt you.” This only caused him to clutch the rift tighter.

Stanley bristled and shut his eyes tight. “Trust no one, trust no one, trust no one,” he repeated under his breath, unable to control what he was saying now. The bulb on the memory gun cast a blue-white glow over them.

Grauntie Mabel tensed. “Hand it to me!”

The light burst and a ray hit Grauntie Mabel square in the forehead. It bounced off and ricocheted off the walls. The two dove to the floor, hands over their heads. The rift was hidden under Stanley’s chest. Eventually, the beam smashed the monitor of the main TV and vanished.

Stanley looked about and grabbed the memory gun. He reached for the rift, but his hand fell short as his great aunt picked him up by the back of his jacket and held him out of reach of the ground. The memory gun fell out of Stanley’s hands as he was lifted. “Let go of me!” Stanley demanded and thrashed about.

“Calm down!” Grauntie Mabel ordered. “Look into my eyes.” She took off her glasses so that they no longer reflected the odd light. “Look at my pupils. It’s me, Stan.” Indeed, her pupils were round and ordinary. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s me.”

Stanley stopped struggling. Grauntie Mabel set him down. “I-I tried to erase your mind. I’m so sorry.”

Grauntie Mabel relaxed. “No, it’s fine. My mind can’t be erased, remember?” She knocked on her head again. “If it really was Bill, you would have done very well. I should have been more like you when I was young.” Grauntie Mabel sighed and started pacing. She set her glasses on the desk. Stanley sat down on the stool in front of the broken monitor. “Stan, I was dumb to hide all of this. The reason I’ve been preparing you for Bill’s tricks is because  _I_  was tricked. It’s the biggest regret of my life. Long, long ago, I used to think of Bill as my friend, not my enemy.”

Stanley watched her pace. How could someone like Grauntie Mabel be so foolish?

“When I was younger, I had hit a roadblock,” Grauntie Mabel explained. “That was, until I found some mysterious writing in a cave. It warned me not to read the incantations on the wall that spoke about having the answers I needed. But I was desperate. When I tried reading the inscriptions aloud, nothing happened… until later that afternoon.” Grauntie Mabel chewed on his lip and tangled and untangled his fingers from each other. “Until that afternoon when I had the weirdest dream. The birches around me grew eyes with slit pupils. Suddenly, the forest was lighter and bushier and friendlier. I was confused–until Bill came. He startled me with one of his over-the-top greetings. I didn’t know who he was. So, when I asked, he introduced himself as Bill. He recited my whole name and my fate to change the world. But then he decided to skip that part. He explained how he was a muse and he was here to help me change the world.”

Grauntie Mabel sighed. “How stupid I was, blinded by the thought of something so beautiful. He became my friend. He was allowed to move in and out of my body as he wanted. He told me of a gateway I could build that would lead into another dimension, a fun dimension that would bring peace to Earth. We were partners and I trusted him. I thought he trusted me. I believed him. This is how he said the world changed–help from a friend.

“I thought I was on the verge of my greatest achievement… until Candy got a glimpse of Bill’s true plans. He lied to me and when I confronted him about it, he just laughed. He told me how dumb I was and how, when the portal got to working, how my dimension ‘is gunna learn how to party!’ I saw his friends on the other side of a rift, a horror show. I said I was going to shut off the portal. But I’d already made a deal and he reminded me of it. He thought it would be cute to see me try to stop an unstoppable force.

“So, I shut the portal down, which severed the link between Bill’s world and ours. I had to hide all of the instructions so no one could ever finish Bill’s work. Ever since then, Bill’s been waiting for the rift to gateway to open.” She looked down at the rift and picked it up. “All he needs to do is get his hands on this rift. To Bill, it’s just a game. But to us, it would mean the end of our world.”

Stanley looked over at the discarded picture of the skull and Bill. He creased the middle portion so that the “OUR WORLD” picture and the “NIGHTMARE REALM” picture fit together. They fit perfectly. “Oh man,” Stanley breathed.

“Oh man, indeed,” Grauntie Mabel agreed.

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

Hours later, Stanford threw down his latest paper covered top to bottom, front and back in little numbers. The cube was covered in numbers again. “Okay, Cube. What pattern do you need? What is this so needlessly complicated?” He glared at the contraption. “Maybe I should have stayed with Fiddleford and let him take you apart.” Stanford plucked one of the squares off. “Ugh. That would be  _cheating_ , though! There has to be some way to…” He stopped and looked over the square. It was blank. But the section under it was a different hue than the section under the square Fiddleford had taken off.

Curious, Stanford plucked each square off the machine and set them down in their respective order on the grass, even though they were all blank. Under it, there was a swirl pattern. The darkest shade of gold was at the top left and got lighter until it was a pale orange in the center. Stanford narrowed his eyes. He picked up the square on the top-left of the pattern on the ground and stuck it on. Then, he tapped it in.  _One._  He tapped it again. The number changed all the way until it was to twenty-five. Then, it shone green. Excited, Stanford carefully put the squares back in, making sure to stay in order. The numbers descended from twenty-five to one in the center. Once he tapped the last one into place, the entire side flashed green and then dulled to a continuous golden glow.

Stanford felt a scream of joy bubble up in his chest as he took apart the next square. This one wasn’t a swirl pattern. This one was a blue zig-zag pattern that, after solving, flashed green and dulled into a continuous blue glow. The third was a red checkboard pattern. This one was difficult as he had to pin-point which color was closest in shade to the last. The fourth was a green diamond pattern. The fifth was a silver stripe pattern. The sixth was a yellow inverted swirl. As soon as he tapped in the last number, the side flashed in green and faded to yellow. Then, the lights turned off with a soft  _click_. When he tried pressing down on it, nothing happened. Stanford whooped and threw his arms into the air.

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

Stanley and Grauntie Mabel sat at the table with two cans of Pitt Cola. Stanley sighed. “I’m sorry about earlier.” Grauntie Mabel handed him a can of soda and he took it. “I’m so Dumb!”

“From now on, no more secrets between us,” Grauntie Mabel stated. “We’re not the only two idiots to be tricked by Bill. But, if we work together, we can be the last.”

“But what about Bill?” Stanley blurted out. “I broke the machine! Now we have no way to protect the Shack!”

Stanford rushed inside and slammed his fist onto the table. “Did someone say  _‘puzzle cube’_?!” He held up the completed puzzle cube.

“No…?” Stanley answered.

“Aw. Well, regardless, it’s finished!” Stanford buzzed and held out the puzzle.

Grauntie Mabel gasped and stood up. “You did!” She looked over the solved puzzle. “This is amazing, you actually solved it! With this sucker solved, we should be able to create a shield and block out Bill and protect the Shack!”

Grunkle Dipper, who’d been attracted by the commotion, looked at him, too. “Great job, Ford! You’re a pretty smart kid!”

Stanford smiled and then chuckled. “You know, I didn’t actually solve it by making the numbers match up. I had to take the little pieces off first to see the pattern under it. Otherwise, I don’t think I’d have ever been able to solve it. So, I guess today I learned that intelligence is subjective.”

Grauntie Mabel cooed, “Oh! That’s the perfect lesson to take from this! Now, who wants to activate the shield and then have some fudge ice cream and double chocolate cookies?”

 

They stood outside. Stanford twisted the cube. It clicked and went back into place. The lines in the cube glowed and then the flashed so that the glow on the ground expanded and morphed into a giant circle a few feet outside of the Shack’s farther reach to create a dome. For a moment, the dome glowed, and runes and unicorns flared. Then, it settled and faded away.

Grauntie Mabel nodded. “Good. This will protect us from Bill! As long as we’re inside, our minds are safe.”

 

In the dreamscape, Bill watched the scene through a bubble. “ **I GUESS I CAN’T POSSESS ANYONE INSIDE THE SHACK, SO I’LL JUST HAVE TO FIND MY NEXT PAWN ON THE…** ” His voice got deeper and slower.  **“… _OUTSIDE_.** ” His eye changed colors and flashed between images of different people.

 

UHJWAFBR AO GBTTLEKB, IGV ECQMEDEVBVVW EH PCUBARQQOW.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very interesting, in my opinion, was this episode. I think that Stanford was more liable to learn more from an "Intelligence is Subjective" sort of thing like Mabel learned that "Morality is Relative". Guess that leaves a lot of room for valuing intelligence that doesn't lie in numbers and puzzles, right? Now, do I think that if this lesson was given to them canonically that some really bad things wouldn't have happened? Eh-huh! Right you would be if you thought that! Entertaining the thought that they'd have something as impossibly similar to this, but this is just a hypothetical situation, you know?  
>  _The inspiration for Stanford's part goes to the lovely["the snadger"](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesnadger) and [her Mabelcorn theory](http://thesnadger.tumblr.com/post/134144088715/okay-i-got-some-episode-parallels-in-mind?is_related_post=1). Seriously, this person is amazing, her ideas are gold._
> 
>  
> 
> 6: _S Kqjqhjlvx Ahjzxinwacm Glq Ehsi l Kmnm Htixlziyfw._


	14. Roadside Attraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They’ve spent all summer at the Space Shack! How about some fresh, Oregon a **i** r?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find the Title Card on dA:

While the young day’s sun warmed the valley and glinted off the metal of the RV parked in front of the Space Shack, the morning birds filled the silence. Blue with swirls of pink, “PINES MABILE” was spray painted over the glitter accented side. Grauntie Mabel, now wearing a purple pine-tree-sun-set sweater, slapped on a “CAUTION: FOXY GRANDMA AT THE WHEEL!” sticker on the back. She looked back as Fiddleford approached with too much in his hands. “Remember: Don’t forget the bug spray! And the Sunscreen! I don’t want to tow around a car full of sunburnt, mosquito-eaten kids!” She chuckled to herself. Little pinecone earrings dangled off her ears.

“Heh. Yeah!” Grunkle Dipper, who had just wiped off the windshield, nodded. “I don’t have the insurance to cover that again.”

“An RV? Camping Gear?” Stanford looked up at the RV. “…Grunkle Dipper, are you trying to take us on another camping trip?”

Then Grunkle Dipper looked back at him. “Well… sort of. Okay, look. The last one wasn’t  _that_  bad!”

“Ah? You didn’t check the weather and we spent the entire time in the RV because it was raining. Then, when it stopped raining, we got lost in the woods and had to hitchhike back.”

“Now, well… I checked the weather this time and there’s no rain on the forecast.”

On top of the RV crouched Fiddleford. Strapping down bags, called, “Ford, it’s the ultimate Oregon road trip!”

“Double agree with that!” Grauntie Mabel smiled. “We’re going out to see the sun, smell the forest, and maybe glitter-fy some statues.”

Dipper agreed with a shrug. “Or tourist traps. What? Every year, my tourist trap competitors prank the Space Shack. Last year, those hooligans duck taped Maria to the ceiling.”

“Then no more!” Grauntie Mabel declared and pulled out a map of Oregon. There were a few places that had been circled red. She handed it to Ford to look over. “This year, we’re visiting every tourist trap along the Redwood Highway, and we’re going to prank back every single one of them!”

Ivan announced as they walked, “Woo! Time to let the road dogs  _out!_ ”

Merrily, Susan ran around the Space Shack with a backpack over her shoulders. “That’s us! We’re the road dogs.”

“Eh-heh! Yeah!” Stanley strolled up to his brother. “Thanks for letting us bring Susan, Fidds, and Ivan along!”

“The more the merrier!” Grauntie Mabel exclaimed. “Now come on! Let’s see if we can get to the first attraction before lunch!” She hopped into the RV after Susan.

“Oh, well…” Stanford looked at the RV. He about started to claim Gompers needed looking after when Fiddleford jumped off the RV and landed right in front of him. Stanford took a step back, eyes wide in surprise.

Grinning, Fiddleford prompted, “What do you say, Ford?”

“Oh, yep!” Stanley patted the bag on the ground. “I even packed a bunch of your things! Because I knew you were coming along.”

“Oh, yeah!” Fiddleford smiled. “It’ll be fun!”

Now, Stanley leaned toward Stanford, “Besides, I’m sure we’ll see a bunch of new monsters out there!”

“And new people,” Fiddleford offered.

“Right!” Stanley grinned and narrowed his eyes. “I call aisle seat!” He darted into the RV.

“Oh, hey, it’s my turn!” Stanford raced after Stanley. Fiddleford shut the door behind them as they ran inside.

 

At a table in the middle of the RV, Fiddleford, Susan, Ivan, Stanley, and Stanford sat. Susan sat beside Ivan and Fiddleford, while Stanford sat with Stanley across from them. Susan looked around. “Wow! I’ve never been in a moving vehicle  _with a table!_ ” She looked under the table.

“Definitely. I’ve never been in one like this.” Ivan looked around. “Normally they have big tubes in them.”

Then Fiddleford picked up a pamphlet from the “shelf” on the table under the window. “Ah haven’t read one a’ these before.”

“Really? Oh, those old things!” Grunkle Dipper called back, “I mean, you can read them. Honestly, though, the only old travel guide you’ll need is me.” His gaze flicked to a large sign bearing a giant ball of yarn and a tiny old woman. “Look alive! We’re coming up on our first attraction!”

“I see it, oh!” Grauntie Mabel looked at the sign as they passed. “She has the biggest ball of yarn I’ve ever seen!”

“Pretty much. But, you know, she set my car on fire on two nonconsecutive occasions,” Grunkle Dipper reminded her.

The car light ticked as the RV turned. He turned around the RV so that it was backed into a space very close to the ball of yarn, which was almost twice as tall as the RV.

The kids stopped in front of it and looked up. “Whoa.”

Grauntie Mabel grinned. “Impressive, right? Whoever finds one end of the string first gets first Pick of lunch!”

“Yeah!” Susan, Stanley, Fiddleford, and Ivan ran to the ball of yarn. While Ivan and Fiddleford stayed at the edge and pawed through it, Susan and Stanley jumped right in. Grunkle Dipper walked around the end and into the gift shop. Stanford stayed by the back bumper of the RV.

“What’s up, kid?” Grauntie Mabel prompted and leaned on the back of the RV.

“Huh? Oh! I, uh, I’m going to tie the yarn,” Stanford informed her.

“Wow, someone’s acting a bit weirder than usual,” she pointed out. “Never been in an RV before?”

“No! Er–no, I haven’t,” Stanford answered. “We don’t go places very often.” He hesitated. “Did you go on RV trips a lot when you were younger?”

“Oh definitely!” Grauntie Mabel chuckled. “We went across town, across state, across the country–once, Dipper took the wrong turn and we all ended up in Canada! Man, senior year was a blast!”

“Oh! So high school was fun?”

“Was it fun? Well,  _yeah!_ ” Grauntie Mabel scoffed. “Friends, family, growing up–yeah, I wasn’t all for growing up, but there are somethings you can’t change. Not like you can stop time from moving forward, eh? But we made the best of it. Grenda, Candy, Dipper, and I!”

Stanford watched the kids look through the ball of yarn. “So, you kept your friends? Even when you guys weren’t around each other?”

“Yep.” Grauntie Mabel nodded. “Sure, it was hard talking long-distance with Dipper, and partying was tough when Grenda and Candy were in different colleges, too. But we made it work. Holidays, school breaks, celebrations–we were all there together!” She looked at the kids and then Stanford. “You guys are the cutest friends I can imagine. You know, when we were your age, we got into all sorts of trouble just like you guys! I’m pretty sure that no matter how hard the world pushes, you can push back.”

“So, you don’t think that, since we’ll be on the other side of the country, we won’t be friends anymore?”

“What gave you that idea? Ford, since you’re technically thirteen, I know that every bit of time feels like forever. But trust me. It’ll be no time at all until you guys will be meeting again for holidays and breaks.”

Stanford looked at his feet. “You guys were gone for so long, though. How are you still such good friends?”

Grauntie Mabel set a hand on the back of her neck. “W-well,” she chuckled. “It’s a long story. But we’re siblings for life. Even if one of us is gone, the other will be right there looking for ’em! Besides, Grenda and Candy are the best friends a gal could ask for! Soos is awesome, too, not to make him or Wendy sound lame.”

“Grauntie Mable, that won’t happen to us will it?” Stanford blurted out, turning his gaze up to meet hers.

Grauntie Mabel froze. In fact, it didn’t look as if she was breathing. Stanford winced and looked down again. She coughed and smiled. “Wh-what? Kid, you’re just overthinking this!” She knelt and set her hands on his shoulders. “Ford, what happened between my brother and I was awful. But it won’t happen again. It only happened because I was dumb and jealous enough to keep secrets from him and we were both dumb enough to fight.” She grinned. “But you two aren’t like us, Ford! You’re both really smart and you both can learn from our mistakes. I swear by my title as greatest crafter, special effects extraordinaire, and rad dimension hopper that I will  _never_  let you two get separated like that.”

Stanford couldn’t help a smile. “Thanks, Grauntie Mabel. I’m… heh, thanks.”

Grauntie Mabel ruffled his hair, causing him to laugh and duck out of her grasp, and stood up. “Anytime, goat-food!”

“Ford!” Stanley called. Stanford turned his attention to his brother, who held the line. Stanford raced to Stanley’s side, took the line, and ran back to the RV. He rolled a few lines onto the bumper and tied it down. Grauntie Mabel waved her hand to the others and ran to the door. The kids followed in her shadow. Grunkle Dipper fled the gift shop and hopped into the RV. As soon as they were buckled down, Grunkle Dipper drove out into the street, cackling with his twin sister. They watched as the ball bounced and skipped after them, shrinking all the while.

Granny Sweetkin gasped. “Why you gall darn son of a no good-!” She took a needle out of the “World Largest Pair of Knitting Needles” and chucked it at the RV. “I’ll get you Dipper Pines!”

They passed a road sign in the shape of an upside-down house painted over orange. Giant red words were painted at the top: “YOU’RE NOT HALLUCINATING!” In slightly smaller red letters were the words, “Just 30 miles to Upside-Down Town!!!”

 

The RV stopped outside of an upside-down house. A set of ladders led up to a red-carpeted wheel, which was connected to the door of the house. “Ah Upside-Down Town,” Grunkle Dipper sighed. “The nausea capital of the state. Whatever you do, don’t use the bathrooms.”

“Road dogs! Road dogs!” The kids ran to a shoe box with special Velcro-bottom shoes. As soon as they got into the wheel, it rolled around so that they were upside down.

The kids scattered to look about the place. Stanley took out his camera. “Hey, Fidds! Mind taking a picture of me?”

“Uh, sure!” Fiddleford took the camera from him and held it up. Stanley pretended to scream. The camera flashed. “There! Wow, you look freaked out.”

“Yeah, my hair isn’t that long, though.” Stanley took the camera from him and smiled. “But yours is! Ford! Get over here!”

Stanford, careful to keep at least one foot on the ground, walked over to where Stanley and Fiddleford stood at the window. “Okay, get ready! Hmm… pretend there’s a monster behind me!” Fiddleford immediately clung to Stanford’s side and pointed at the camera. Ford put an arm around him and held a hand up. Stanley booed, “Come on, bro! You can do better!”

“I-I’m trying!” Stanford huffed. “I just have a head ru-uuuuush!” He yelled in fright as, after he lifted one foot to take a step back, he began to slip out of the other shoe. Fiddleford immediately tightened his grip around Stanford and brought him back. The camera flashed. “STANLEY!”

“On it!” Stanley shoved the camera in his pocket and grabbed Stanford by the other arm. Stanford planted both feet firmly on the ground. “Ha-ha! That one looked real!”

“Because it  _was_  real!” Stanford grumbled.

“Cheer up, Ford,” Fiddleford piped up. “There’s a gift shop downstairs if ya want to go back to standin’ right-side-up.”

“You know, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” Stanford replied and carefully walked to the other end of the roof.

Stanley whispered as he walked past, “I untied your shoe.” He clicked his tongue and ran to the other side of the house, where he could jump onto the ground.

Stanford gasped and then glared at him. “Stanley, you traitor!” Stanford ran after him. Unfortunately, he lost tracking with the ground and fell. Fiddleford helped him up. “Thanks,” Stanford muttered.

“What did Lee do?” Fiddleford’s Eyebrows contracted, and he set his full attention on Stanford.

Stanford rolled his eyes. “He untied my shoe. For a better picture, I bet.”

Fiddleford frowned and looked back. “Well, that ain’t right, even if it was fer a picture.”

“Nah, he’s fine,” Stanford denied with a wave of his hand. A smirk crept onto his features. He lowered his voice so that only Fiddleford could hear him. “Our next stop is Log Land and I’m forcing him into one of the rides.”

“Log Land? The water place?” Fiddleford echoed. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Stanley is very scared of heights,” Stanford explained. “I’m really surprised he stayed up here. Do you think we’re getting lunch after this?”

“Hopefully!” Fiddleford nodded. “Ah’m starved! Stanley found the yarn, though, so it’s his pick.”

“Ooooh, right,” Stanford agreed. “We should ask Grunkle Dipper if we’re leaving yet.”

The house shuttered. Fiddleford looked to the exit. “Ah reckon we should be leavin’ now.”

Stanford nodded and ran outside, Fiddleford at his side. Once they were outside, along with most everyone else, they found the house tipping. Stanley, Susan, Grunkle Dipper, and Grauntie Mabel were not out with the rest of the crowd. The house tipped onto its side and then, after a bit of wobbling, fell right-side-up. Dipper and Mabel, after fist-bumping their accomplishment, ran outside like her hair was on fire. They pointed to the RV. There was no hesitance in jumping into the vehicle and driving off.

Grauntie Mabel laughed, “Not so upside-down now!”

A woman walking her dog passed up the house. “What a lovely normal home!”

“Dipper Pines!” an employee of the tourist trap yelled.

 

Grunkle Dipper, one hand on the steering wheel and one elbow on the door, glanced at Stanley. Stanley, now in the passenger side, looked out the window. “Lunch time, Lee. Pick out whatever you want!”

“Thanks, Grunkle Dipper!”

Susan and Ivan sat across from Fiddleford and Stanford.

Stanford looked between Susan and Fiddleford. “How long have you two been friends?”

“Fer as long as Ah’ve been here,” Fiddleford answered.

“As long as we can remember, yeah,” Susan replied. “We were in a few classes together when he transferred over here. I also kicked a few bully butts for him.”

Fiddleford chuckled. “Yes, ya were quite kind ta me. Are! Ya still are.”

“Wow. Everyone knows each other,” Stanford mused. “For so long, too.”

“Do you live in one of the big cities?” Susan prompted.

“Stanley and I live in a small city, sort of. It’s on the beach. Most of the place is factories and shops and small houses. But everyone still knows everyone in our area,” Stanford explained. “You can’t get away from it, either, since no one moves. No one’s rich enough to move. At least where I live.”

“Man, ya make it sound terrible,” Fiddleford stated. “Is it really  _that bad?_ ”

“S-sometimes!” Stanford sat up straight. “I mean, there are plenty of good people there. It’s, uh, not as open as here. There’s lots of space and some people are nice. Um… have you lived here long, Fiddleford?”

“Me?” Fiddleford echoed. “Oh! Ah was born on the hog farm in Tennessee but came here when Ah was young ta live near ma grandma. Ah was real young back then, but Ah never really lost ma cousins an’ aunts an’ uncles. So, Ah still talk like ’em an’ go ta family reunions. They’re all real nice.” He sighed and looked at the window. “Sometimes Ah get a bit homesick. Everyone was so nice an’ there was so much ta do. Lots a’ chores, but plenty a’ fun doin’ them. Wakin’ up to the rooster crowin’.”

Susan set her head in her hand. “How about you, Ford? You and Lee  _never_  talk about your family.”

“You don’t, either,” Stanford pointed out.

“Yeah I do! Maybe not to you, but I do,” Susan sniffed. “Anyway, you’re avoiding the question! You  _do_  have parents, right?”

“Of course I do!” Stanford scoffed. “We’d be living with Grandpa Tyrone if we didn’t have Mom and Dad. But there’s nothing to say. Dad runs a pawn shop and Mom’s a phone psychic. We live in Glass Shard Beach and Shermie takes us out sometimes, but it’s mostly just Stanley and I.”

“Shermie?” Susan cocked her head. “Who’s that? Oh! Do you have a big sister?”

“Big  _brother_ ,” Stanford crossed. “Yes, we do. But he got a job as a counselor in a summer camp, so it’s just Stanley and I here.”

Stanley turned around. “Yo, nerds! We’re getting lunch at that diner!”

The next attraction they approached was Log Land. “I remember this place,” Grauntie Mabel chuckled. “I was pen-pals with one of the owners.”

Grunkle Dipper nodded as he stopped the RV. “She flipped my car upside down.” Grunkle Dipper picked up a crate with some sort of animal in it, gave them the thumbs up, and ran off into the park with his sister.

Stanford took Stanley by the wrist and ran off into the park. Fiddleford followed them as quickly as they could. Tubes missing their tops swirled through the whole place. Water rushed down through them and logs filled with people rushed through the tubes with water. Stanford stopped behind a line. “Come with us on a ride?”

“Uh, no thanks. I don’t want to get wet,” Stanley declined.

Fiddleford tipped his head. “Ya’ve never said that before.”

“We won’t really get wet,” Stanford pointed out with a wave of his hand. A sly smile crept upon his features. “Or are you just chicken?”

“Chicken? Me? Psssh, no.” Stanley crossed his arms. “I just don’t want to get wet.”

“Chicken!” Stanford teased. “Bo-gawk!”

“I’m not a Chicken!” Stanley huffed. “You know what? Fine! I’ll show you. I’m not a chicken.”

 

Indeed, Stanley was the first onto the log ride, with Stanford, Fiddleford, and a fourth person next to them. He smirked at Stanford and put on his seatbelt. However, he looked over the rim of the log ride, as they were in the very front. His smile froze, and his eyes went wide.

“Please keep all arms and legs inside the log at all times.” As the announcer spoke, two workers on each side checked their seat belts and the metal-and-foam harnesses that folded over them.

“Oh no,” Stanley breathed. “C-can I get off?”

“Please stay inside of the log until the log has come to a complete stop and you have been instructed to leave. Have a nice ride.” The announcer turned off his microphone. The log shuttered and drifted forward as it was freed from the metal holders keeping it in place.

Stanford grinned and looked over the top of the log. Stanley clutched his harness so tightly his fingers turned white. Fiddleford looked at Stanford and Stanley and then in front of him. The log tipped forward and then fell. Stanley screamed as the log plummeted down one of the slides. Fiddleford shut his eyes tight and gripped the harness. Stanford howled and threw his arms up.

Water splashed and soaked them as they twisted and turned and landed with a hearty  _splash_  into a pool. The log slowed down considerably and drifted through an ill-lit tunnel. Stanford laughed like a maniac. Fiddleford opened his eyes and looked about. Stanley stayed frozen in his seat, hands on his harness and eyes shut tight. The tunnel opened up into light. For a moment, they couldn’t see the rest of the track. That was, until it tipped forward. This revealed the rest of the track on an extremely steep slope. Something flashed as they fell. The log slowed and then shuttered to a stop as they entered the second station.

Stanford jumped up once it was time to leave and hopped off the ride. Stanley stumbled unsteadily onto the wooden floor of the ride. Fiddleford, shaky on his feet, stepped off as well. “Let’s go see if they took our picture!” Stanford encouraged. He took Fiddleford by the hand and helped lead him to the gift shop. Stanley, now that he was on solid ground, followed at nearly the same pace.

Connected to the gift shop was a room full of screens. On one of them was the ride they were on. Stanford looked absolutely thrilled. Fiddleford had drawn into himself. Stanley looked plain terrified. Although the picture was a bit expensive, the three of them chipped in to buy one copy. Stanford breathed as they left, “We’ll use the copier machine when we get home.” He raised his voice to a normal tone. “Wasn’t that fun?”

Stanley, his breathing level normal again and his back straight, huffed, “No.”

Fiddleford, a hand on his chest, shook his head. “D-definitely not!”

“You didn’t have to go, Fiddleford,” Stanford offered.

Fiddleford gave him a slight smile. “O-o’ course Ah did, Ford! Ah couldn’t’ve walked ta the next station all by myself.”

“Hey!” Ivan ran up to them, a log hat on his head. “Whoa! What happened to you guys?”

Stanford pointed to the ride behind him. “I convinced them to go with me.”

Susan sauntered up to them. “You look plain terrified. Mr. and Mrs. Pines are waiting for us. They say to hurry.”

“Got it!” The kids ran back to the RV, where Grauntie Mabel waved her hand to get them to hurry up.

Susan took Stanford’s shoulder and hissed, “You mess with one hair on his head and I’ll kick you into next Tuesday!” Before Stanford could react, Susan was hopping into the RV with a brilliant, teasing smile.

As soon as they all got in, Grunkle Dipper drove off, laughing like a maniac all the while.

Grauntie Mabel looked back, where kids–half of them soaked–sat. Fiddleford was closest as he rummaged through the shelf next to the bathroom. “What happened to you, kid?”

“We rode one of the water rides,” Fiddleford replied.

“I thought Stan wa–didn’t like rides like those,” Grauntie Mabel pointed out.

Fiddleford glanced into the back seat. “Stanford convinced us both.”

Grauntie Mabel laughed. “That little rapscallion!”

 

The last place they arrived was the Corn Maze. Grunkle Dipper shook his head. “Oh! Man, the Corn Maze. I’m not good at mazes. These people dumped me in the middle of the maze, once, and it took me the rest of the day to get out!”

They didn’t stay at the maze for long. The kids got out just long enough to stretch their legs and run about. By now, Stanley, Stanford, and Fiddleford changed clothes so they weren’t wet. Grunkle Dipper poured a bag of corn weevils into The edge of the maze and ran off.

 

Their last stop was an RV park to sleep for the night. Grauntie Mabel sat by the truck, a ball of yarn and two knitting needles in her hands. She hummed a quiet song as she created a new sweater. Grunkle Dipper sat next to her, a book in his hands. The kids sat around a campfire. All of them had sticks that had been cleaned and sharpened. The sharpened ends skewered hot dogs and marshmallows.

Stanley chewed off a golden-brown marshmallow from the end of his stick. “Do you guys know what time it is?”

“Uh… bed?” Fiddleford guessed.

“Spooky stories?” Susan prompted.

“Another bag of marshmallows?” Ivan asked.

Stanley shook his head. “Nope! It’s time for ‘Truth or Dare or Don’t’!” Stanford groaned.

Fiddleford hesitated as he’d just put a marshmallow on his stick. “Uh, ‘Truth or Dare or Don’t’? Ah’ve never played that before.”

Susan cackled. “Yes! I vote Stanley to go first!”

Stanley tipped his head toward Fiddleford. “He’s never played before! Let’s let him go first!”

“That doesn’t make sense. Why doesn’t someone else go first?” Fiddleford prompted.

Susan nudged Stanley. “Come on, I already challenged you!”

“Fine, fine. Me first.” Stanley set down his stick. “Dare.”

Susan looked at Ivan and Fiddleford. “Hmm… any of you have any good dares?”

Fiddleford shook his head. Ivan shrugged. “I’ve never played before, either.”

“He always calls my dares lame,” Stanford admitted.

“Okay, okay.” Susan put on a devilish smile. She lowered her voice. “I dare you to hide Ms. Pine’s yarn under the RV!”

Stanley looked up at Grauntie Mabel, who’d almost finished her pink confetti sweater, and then back at Susan. “You’re on!” With that, he stood up and vanished into the RV park. The kids looked at the fire and roasted marshmallows so that they didn’t look suspicious. They’d still steal glances at the RV. Stanley slithered under it like a snake. He picked up the basket with yarn in it and scooted back as quietly as he could.

Grauntie Mabel lifted her eyes so that she looked at the kids around the fire. “Kids!”

“Yes, Ms. Pines?” They called back, not a hint of anything but curiosity in their tone.

“Could you help me get Stanley here out from under the RV? I think he got stuck pulling my yarn under there.” She chuckled at the shocked look on their faces. When Stanford went to the RV to find Stanley, he was indeed stuck, but not under the RV. He was attempting to get his fingers off the box. “I glued it! HA!” Grauntie Mabel laughed.

Grunkle Dipper, snickering, looked up. “Try not to dare anyone to mess with Mabel or I next time. She  _will_  prank you back.”

“That’s a promise!” Grauntie Mabel agreed. “Oh, do you remember that party in Freshman year when we invited Gideon…?”

Once Stanford was able to pry Stanley’s fingers off the box and slid the box back into place, they walked back to their campfire. “Okay,” Stanley announced. “You’re turn, Susan!”

Susan thought for a moment. “Hmm… truth.”

Stanley looked at the boys. Stanley smiled and piped up, “What’s in that box you keep under your bed?” Fiddleford shook his head.

Susan raised an eyebrow and leaned forward. “Do you  _really_  want to know?”

Stanley scoffed. “I asked, didn’t I?”

“Okay.” Susan shrugged. “Half my mom’s collection of ‘Wolf Man, Bare Chest’, make-up, and old school photos. Oh, also, these hilarious pictures of my old boyfriend and I–”

“Okay!” Stanley held up a hand. “You know, never mind.” Susan burst into laughter.

Susan turned to Fiddleford. “You’re turn, Fidds!”

“Um… don’t…?” Fiddleford guessed.

Stanley stuck his tongue. “Ah, come on! Get in the spirit of things!”

“Okay, okay! Um… truth.”

Stanley looked about. “Hmm… anyone got any good ideas or is it up to me?”

“Up to you,” Susan answered.

“I’d go easy on him,” Ivan admitted. Stanford shrugged.

“Okay, okay.” Stanley thought for a moment longer. “Hmm… oh! When was your first kiss with him?”

“Me?” Stanford asked.

“Uh… Ah don’t… well, we didn’t?” Fiddleford stuttered.

Susan snickered and punched Stanley. “You have no class!”

“W-wait, was everyone thinkin’ that?” Fiddleford asked, flushing a deeper shade of red.

“Well,  _duh,_ ” Stanley scoffed, rubbing his shoulder. “You danced for forever at that party last week  _and_  you guys hardly left each other’s side the picnic after that.”

Ivan nodded sheepishly. “I thought so, too.”

“That’s actually why Mom let me stay in a sleep-over with you guys,” Susan admitted.

“I thought you said it was because she knew you could beat him up.” Stanford gestured toward Stanley. “Besides, that was months ago.”

“That, too.”

Stanford rolled his eyes. Fiddleford chuckled, “Okay, um… Ivan’s turn?”

“Spoil sport!” Stanley accused and then chuckled. “Okay, fine. Truth or Dare?”

“Dare!”

 

The next morning, they were on the road again. Grunkle Dipper announced, “Okay, everyone! Everything’s been a walk in the park until now! Behold: Mystery Mountain! Five times the size of the Space Shack  _and_  they have real attractions.”

Grauntie Mabel turned around. “You know, I hear there’re legends of spider-people And of people that go into the forest and never come back!”

Susan looked over a pamphlet. “Oh yeah! This place  _does_  have legends about spider-people.” She turned the pamphlet around to show the pictures of people with a dozen eyes and spider abdomens and legs replacing their human legs like some sort of arachnotaur.

“Really?” Stanley gasped. “Oh! This has to be where Darlene lives!”

“Spider people,” Stanford gasped. “Whoa! What else is there?”

“Mummies!” Susan answered. “Lots of mummies.”

Stanley chuckled. “Yeah. Imported daily or whatever.”

Stanford turned to him. “Do you know where they get them?”

Stanley held up a hand. “She doesn’t tell me  _all_  their trade secrets. Only a few of them.” He set his hands down. “Also, warnings! Like, don’t leave the trail. That part doesn’t belong to them or something. Also, by the time we get there–” Stanley looked outside and then down the aisle, where a clock had been set up on the wall. “–she should be near the end of her shift! Then we can finally talk in person for the first time since she got home!” His grin slowly faded. “…and the last once  _I_  go home.”

Stanford shrugged. “I’m sure we’ll get to be visiting again.”

Stanley chuckled. “Heh, yeah. Totally. Uh… wow it’s glum in here, isn’t it? Who wants to play a card game?”

Stanley pulled out a deck of cards and they switched from game to game–Stanley predominantly winning–until the RV slowed to a stop in front of a wooden cabin of sorts. Outside, a giant blue ox stood next to a lumberjack who had a foot on the ticket stand. “MYSTERY MOUNTAIN” created a sign high above them. After a large gap, a sign reading “MUMMY MUSEUM” could be read.

Grunkle Dipper turned off the RV and met them at the door. “Alright road dogs, five bucks to anyone who tips the big blue ox! Go! Go! Go!” He ushered them along as most ran to the big blue ox. Stanford stayed beside his great uncle. “What’s up, kid?” Grunkle Dipper prompted. “Not in the mood for fake ox tipping?”

Stanford watch the kids go before shaking his head. “Um… not really. I was just going to go out and look for some of these mythical creatures!”

“Uh, I don’t think that’s the best idea,” Grunkle Dipper started slowly. “It’s not the safest out in those woods. Who knows what’s out there!” He perked up. “You know what? You should go check out the mummies! That’s really something I think you’d like.”

Stanford shuffled his feet and then walked down another path to the museum. Fiddleford looked back at him and then ran after Stanford. “Hey, Ford!”

Stanford jumped. “Oh! Hey, Fidds! I thought you guys were trying to tip over the ox.”

“Ah wasn’t much help,” Fiddleford confessed. “Besides, these mummies sound interestin’.”

 

Stanley watched his best friend go. Ivan was pushing one of the legs with everything he had, even digging his feet into the ground and displacing dirt and grass. Susan, a hand over her mouth, watched him. Stanley smirked. “Yep! Well, you guys have fun.”

Susan and Ivan looked up at him. “Where are you going?”

Stanley shoved his hands in his pockets and strolled off. “I think I’ll just have a nice stroll in these creepy woods.”

Ivan started after him, but Susan set a hand on his shoulder and sighed. “Abandoned by my friends. Oh, well. You’re still around, right?”

Ivan looked up and nodded. “Yeah! But, what about Stanley? Won’t he get hurt?”

“Pssh.” Susan rolled her eyes. “Of course he’ll get hurt! That’s why we’re following him.” She let go and set her hands behind her back. “Watch a master at work, little Ivan. Maybe you can pick up a few tricks!”

Susan watched Stanley move. Judging by his current path, he was going… to the ticket stand. A girl, perhaps Stanley’s age, maybe a year over, stood at the ticket stand. She propped up her head on the table. Her puffy blonde hair fell over her small shoulders and onto the wood. A pair of oval sunglasses brushed back her hair a bit to reveal dream-Catcher earrings.

Stanley stopped by the ticket stand. The girl looked down and perked up. “Staaaanley!”

Stanley grinned. “Yo, Darlene! It’s been  _forever!”_

Darlene hopped down from the ticket booth. “Yeah! Oh my gawsh, I’m  _so_  glad you got to visit at least once before going home. So, what are you doing here, anyway?”

Stanley glanced back at his great aunt and uncle, who were chatting avidly next to the blue ox. “Oh, nothing much.” He lowered his voice. “My great uncle’s goin’ on a ‘revenge trip’. It’s hilarious!”

Darlene giggled. “Really? Well good luck finding anything to sabotage here!” Her smile faded a bit. “Just make sure you stay on my parents’ good side, okay? I already told them about your great uncle. Whose she?”

“My Great Aunt Mabel, Grunkle Dipper’s sister.”

“Oh, okay. You know, I’m going on a break. You wanna take the sky ram up to Widow’s Peak?”

“Oh, sure!” Stanley walked around to her side and offered his arm.

“Oh, fancy!” she cooed and took his arm.

 

After a bit of walking around, Stanford and Fiddleford sat down on a bench near the end of the museum flanked by a trashcan and water fountain. A “NEW MUMMIES DAILY” banner hung over the seat. Stanford looked about the place. Fiddleford glanced at Stanford. “This place is really neat.”

“Yeah. I’m confused by the phrase ‘new mummies daily’, though,” Stanford pointed out and looked at Fiddleford. Fiddleford pretended as if he’d been staring at a mummy case close to them before turning to Stanford. “I mean, how does that even work?”

Fiddleford shrugged. “This mountain is full of mysteries! Ah-Ah mean, uh, maybe they just get imported regularly?”

Stanford perked up and looked about. “Uh, what’s wrong?” He turned back to Fiddleford.

“What’s wrong?” Fiddleford echoed. “N-nothing’s wrong.”

Stanford’s eyebrows contracted. “You don’t stutter unless something’s wrong, Fidds.”

Fiddleford looked up at him and then shrugged. “Oh, well, uh… it’s…” he chuckled in an uneven, pitched way.  _Oh no. Is he…? What? Nah, it’s the mummies. He’s spooked by the mummies. That would make sense. He does get nervous easily._

“The mummies?” Stanford offered.

Fiddleford started to nod but caught himself. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. Stanford had the feeling he recognized that look, but not on Fiddleford. “Well, okay. Okay.” Fiddleford stated and looked up at Stanford. “Ah’m goin’ ta be forward.” Stanford could practically see Fiddleford’s resolve cracking upon meeting Stanford’s gaze. His accent got a bit thicker as he continued, “Ah-Ah wasn’t thinkin’ about seein’ the mummies here. Ah wanted ta come here with you. Y-you’re my friend–the best Ah’ve e-ever had. Ah’ve j-” He cleared his throat and started fiddling with the bottom of his shirt. “You’re the smartest fella Ah know and one of the bravest. This was the best summer Ah’ve ever had. Ah just… Ah’d like ta–ta be more than a friend.” Fiddleford winced and gulped.

Stanford couldn’t speak at first. He put a hand on the back of his neck.  _Oh. So… so he really… what are you doing, Stanford? Weren’t YOU going to talk to HIM? Stop choking! Say something!_  “Thank you? Er–right.”  _What do I say? Stanley’s the romantic, not me._  “I, um… um…” He took a deep breath. “I would, too.” He turned his head back up to meet Fiddleford’s gaze. The boy coiled his arms around Stanford in a hug. Just like snow near a flame, his awkward terror started to melt.

_Chhhh!_

The two jumped. Stanford immediately took out the walkie-talkie from his jacket. “Hey?”

 _“Ford!”_  Grunkle Dipper’s voice, pitched by suppressed emotion, came through.  _“Hey, do–urg!”_  He huffed as if struggling to hold something. _“–you know–urg– where Lee–huff–is? And his–huff–girlfriend, Darlene? Or–where are you?”_

“Uh, Fiddleford and I are still at the museum,” Stanford answered, hopping to his feet. “Why? Is something wrong?”

_“You could–huff–say that. I’m–huff–on the trail to–huff–Widow’s peak! Just hur–NO! GET BACK HERE!”_

“Grunkle Dipper? Grunkle Dipper?! Answer me!” Stanford looked at the walkie talkie. “Oh no. Come on!” Stanford stuffed the walkie talkie back in his jacket and raced outside, Fiddleford at his side. “Grunkle Dipper’s fighting something, I know it! Urg! Where’s Stanley?!”

“He’s with Darlene going to Widow’s Peak!”

Stanford screamed as Susan popped out of a bush near the trail. She ducked in time to keep from getting her eye bruised.

Fiddleford set a hand on his chest. “Oh, please don’t do that, Susan.” Ivan crept over to his brother and patted him on the back.

“Okay. Well, Stanley’s just up ahead. Why?” Susan prompted.

“Grunkle Dipper’s in trouble and he asked for Stanley and Darlene.”

“Oh. Well, okay! I’ll run on ahead!” Susan took Ivan’s wrist and darted ahead. “And I’m taking Ivan!”

“Wait!” Fiddleford gasped. “Why are–no! Susan! And she’s gone. Why won’t she talk ta me about these things?”

“Because she’s always in control?” Stanford prompted, running down the trail as well.

Fiddleford caught up to him. “Well it ain’t right ta do dangerous stuff with ma brother without askin’ me, first.”

“You would have said no.”

“Well a’ course Ah’d’ve said no!”

“You’re sounding like my great uncle.”

“An’ yer great uncle is one hundred percent right.”

“ _…back here! Mabel, stop! Snap out of it!”_

All joking thoughts were gone as they heard Grunkle Dipper’s voice from the forest. The two boys didn’t hesitate to run off the trail and skitter down a steep slope. A muddy, boggy river twisted through. Mabel and Dipper grappled near the water’s edge, both of their feet muddy and both of them sweaty. Grunkle Dipper was attempting to tug her away while Grauntie Mabel attempted to shake him off and push him away. In the river, his head and torso cleared the water, but the rest of his body was cloaked by reeds and mud, was another man the twins’ age. His wide, reflective eyes stayed on the two and he bared his oddly perfect teeth in a wide grin, pushing up his perfect mustache.

“Hey!” Stanford yelled, bursting out of the trees. “Leave my great aunt and uncle alone!”

The man in the water turned to him and hummed in glee. “Oh, a child! He looks quite a bit like you, Dipper.” What a weird Spanish accent so far north… and for a surprisingly human bog monster.

Grunkle Dipper gasped. “ _FORD?!_  No, stay on the trail, Darlene–” He huffed as Grauntie Mabel punched him square in the chest.

Stanford reached into his jacket and–no. Oh no. No, no, no, no,  _no!_  Where was his crossbow?! He picked up a rock instead and chucked it. The man in the water, distracted by the tussling twins, yelped as he was hit in the head.

The man snarled and took a deep breath. Grunkle Dipper yelled, “Plug your ears!” Stanford did as he was told, as was Fiddleford. Dipper tripped his sister and clamped his hands over his ears.

Stanford looked at his great uncle and great aunt, whom Grunkle Dipper was struggling to keep put down without using his hands. Stanford took a step forward to meet him but yelped as his foot sunk into the spongey ground and his hands slipped off his head.

Stanford blinked and shook himself. What was… what was he doing?

Mermando, the man in the water, Looked at him. “Stanford, my boy!”

Stanford turned to Mermando. “Yeah?”

“Your great aunt, you’ve got to help her!” Mermando’s eyes were wide as moons.

“Grauntie Mabel!” Stanford gasped. She’d jumped to her feet, but Grunkle Dipper had grabbed her and wrapped his arms around her from behind, pinning her upper arms to her side. Stanford set his gaze and ran to her aid. Before he could get there, he was caught by the collar of his shirt. “Gak! Hey!”

Fiddleford yanked him back. “No!” Fiddleford tugged him back. “Stanford, don’t listen ta him! He’s puttin’ ya under a spell!”

A flash of anger so sudden and so fierce took over Stanford, that he ignored any thoughts of his friend’s warning and ripped his hand out of Fiddleford’s grip. “Let go of me!” With that, he turned and sloshed to where his great aunt was. Fiddleford growled and grabbed Stanford’s wrist, pulling him back again. This time, he held a stick.

The man in the water cried out in pain as the stick hit him squarely in the forehead. Mermando swore profusely in Spanish and put a hand on his head.

Stanford shook his head and, no longer under his spell, looked around. “Wha–? Where am–?”

“Follow me!” Fiddleford ordered and dragged him away. Stanford looked over as his great aunt and uncle. Grauntie Mabel, blushing furiously, ran away from the riverside, her brother’s hand in her’s.

The siren hissed and lunged. Mermando grabbed onto Stanford’s ankle with both hands and pulled him back. Stanford screamed as he was torn away from Fiddleford’s grasp and landed in the bog on his belly. Although he scrambled and clawed at the muddy ground, it was much too soft and yielding to aid him. Fiddleford took his hand in both of his and tugged him back. Mermando lunged and grabbed Fiddleford by the chest of his shirt.

Then, they were underwater.

Stanford thrashed and kicked and desperately tried pulling himself to where he knew air was. Though the hand that pulled him into the water had let go, it grabbed him by the collar. Fiddleford was next to him, vainly trying to escape.

A flash of light crossed their vision. A shriek ripped through the water by their ears. After a few more flashes of light–each one bringing an immense amount of heat and screaming–blasted past them, Mermando let go.

Stanford gasped glorious, life-giving air as he was taken out of the river. He wrapped his arms around the adult that had taken him and, shivering and coughing, looked back. “F-Fiddleford?”

Fiddleford, coughing up mucky water, wheezed, “Fine. Thank ya, Mr. Pines, Ms. Pines.”

Stanford looked up at who was holding him. Grunkle Dipper, shivering as if he’d been dunked in ice water, held onto him with a vice grip. “Thank God you two are alright.”

Grauntie Mabel, her ray gun still in one hand, held Fiddleford close to her hip. “No kidding! I didn’t know there were sirens here!”

“GUYS GET OUT OF THERE!”

They looked back to the trail as Stanley ran down, huffing and puffing. “Don’t go… what are you guys doing here?” He wheezed, stumbling to a stop. “There are sirens in here!”

Stanford chipped in dryly, “Yeah, I know. Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I didn’t know!” Stanley squawked.

Darlene, hands behind her back and head lowered, stood on the edge of the trail. “You guys better get back here.”

Grunkle Dipper, refusing to let go of Stanford, walked back to the trail with his sister, great nephew, and their friend at his side. Susan and Ivan met them. Ivan immediately pounced on his brother and Susan, sending death-glares at Stanley, walked up to her best friend.

Grunkle Dipper asked, “Darlene, why didn’t you tell  _us_  there were sirens?”

Darlene sighed. “I couldn’t, I’m sawrry! My parents don’t like me telling people about them!” she rubbed her arm. “Our families–arachnotaur and sirens–have an agreement. Part of that is not telling anyone they’re here, only telling them nawt to leave the trail!”

Stanley turned to his great aunt and uncle. “Yeah, what  _were_  you doing off the trail?”

Grunkle Dipper glared at his sister. Grauntie Mabel smiled. “Ah… heh. Okay, funny story. Well, Dipper and I were just walking around the trail when I saw what might have been a pixie! Then I started to go toward it when I heard this really nice singing. Then, um, it’s fuzzy. Sorry, Dipper, I didn’t know there were sirens!”

“It’s clearly dangerous!” Grunkle Dipper hissed. His heartrate shot straight up. But, he took a calming breath and set Stanford down. “Alright. We’re all a bit shaken by this. You two–er, three–need showers. Then we should start heading back.”

“Grunkle Dipper!” Stanley called his attention. “Wait, can’t we stay a little longer? Those sirens won’t attack us if we stay out of the woods, which you’ll be doing, anyway!”

Grunkle Dipper sighed. “I’m sorry, Stanley, but we really should be going. How about this, while Ford, Fiddle, and Ivan wash up, you and Susan can stay near the RV.”

Stanley pouted and sighed. “Alright.” He took Stanford’s hand and walked back to the RV. He leaned toward him and whispered, “Take as long as you want.”

Stanford chuckled nervously. “Yeah, sure.”

Once they got to the RV, Dipper climbed inside and started fussing around the place. Grauntie Mabel leaned on the blue statue. Once Fiddleford was gone for first shower, a hard yelp caused Stanford’s already frayed nerves to burst. Stanford whipped around. Susan, who’d just hit Stanley’s shoulder hard enough to knock him off balance, took him by the front of the shirt and yanked him up so that they were nose-to-nose.

“You almost got my best friend killed you ass!”

Stanley held onto her wrists. “I told you I didn’t’ know! ’Sides, I  _said_  to stay off the trail!”

“Let go of him!” Darlene snapped, shoving Susan back.

Susan snarled and bristled. “You! If you weren’t so secretive, none of this would have happened!”

“I said as much as I could! It’s nawt his fault!”

Stanford looked up at Grauntie Mabel, who was supposed to be watching them. But, her head was bowed, and her arms crossed, and her sullen gaze rested on her feet.

Stanford walked forward. “Girls, I think you should calm down.”

“STAY OUT OF IT!” they both snapped and then glared at each other. “Don’t talk to him like that!”

Stanley slunk to Stanford’s side and set his hand on his brother’s sopping shoulder. “I respect your decision entirely to hook up with Fiddleford.” He rested his forehead on Stanford’s shoulder. “Girls are gunna be the death of me.”

When the RV door opened and Fiddleford–his hair only half dry and still messy–walked out, Susan let go immediately and stepped back. “Fiddle! You’re okay!”

“Yeah, Ah’m okay!” Fiddleford chuckled.

Darlene scoffed and stalked back to Stanley. “That girl is trouble, Stanley.”

Stanley groaned. Fiddleford looked between them. “What happened? Did Ah miss somethin’?”

“Yes,” Stanford stated. “Please don’t ask.”

Fiddleford wrinkled his nose. “You were fightin’ with Darlene, weren’t you?”

Susan rolled her eyes. “She started it!”

“Susan, ya can’t win every fight ya choose! It’s better ta talk it out!”

“You were almost drowned by a siren! I can’t  _talk it out_  with her!”

Darlene set her hands on her hips. “She’s such a control freak.”

“I heard that!” Susan snipped.

When Ivan came out, Stanford let out a grateful sigh and, with a “Please don’t kill each other” stepped in to take his shower.

When he started back out to meet everyone outside, he found his great uncle at the steering wheel. The man’s forehead was set on the steering wheel. Stanford looked at the door and then approached his great uncle. “Grunkle Dipper?”

Grunkle Dipper jolted and sat up straight. “What? Stanford?” He relaxed. “Something wrong, Ford?”

Stanford sat down in the passenger’s seat. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, Ford.” He chuckled. “Just glad we’re all alive.”

Stanford kicked his feet. “You don’t look so good, though.”

“I’m just a little stressed,” Grunkle Dipper admitted with a tired smile. “Thanks for checking up on me, Ford.”

Stanford frowned. “Are you sure you want to drive? You can sit with us.”

“There’s not enough room for me there,” Grunkle Dipper chuckled. “Besides, Mabel can’t exactly drive. She doesn’t remember how.” Dipper muttered so quickly and quietly Stanford hardly heard,  _“And she can’t see far enough in front of her for me to trust.”_  He went on, “Anyway, you’re the last one. Are the other kids ready?”

Stanford bit his tongue. _Oh boy._ “Probably, but Stanley will say he isn’t. Besides, you’re still kind of muddy, Grunkle Dipper.” Indeed, the muck and water that had been clinging to Stanford before his great uncle fished him out dried on his shirt and pants and crusted on his skin. He tried a small smile. “It’s not fair _we_ have to wash up, but you don’t.”

“I got it. Heh. Yeah, I’ll need a little more time to calm down, anyway. Why don’t you go play out with your friends? How about… an hour. Everyone should be ready to go by then.”

“An hour? Um… okay.” Stanford got up. “If you’re tired, you can take a nap. I won’t mind.”

“You’re the best, Ford. But I’m alright. I told you that.”

“If you say so.” Stanford left, then. Grunkle Dipper set his head back down on the steering wheel. When he got outside, Grauntie Mabel, just as muddy and sweaty as her brother, was still staring at her feet. Fiddleford, Susan, Ivan, Stanley, and Darlene were all running around the open space. Stanley slapped Darlene’s shoulder. “You’re it!”

“Hey!” Darlene stopped and chased after him.

Fiddleford stopped. “Oh, Ford! We’re playin’ tag. Wanna join us?”

“Sure!” Stanford ran out into the yard, and then laughed and ran away as Darlene caught sight of him and changed her pace.

Eventually, the kids got too tired to keep running. So, with Ivan being “it”, the game Ended. Stanley asked, “So, when are we leavin’?”

“Uh, Grunkle Dipper said an hour,” Stanford replied. “That was, an hour after I came out here. How long have we been here?”

Stanley shrugged and then turned to their great aunt. “Grauntie Mabel! What time is it?”

She jolted and looked up. “Huh? Time? Oh, uh…” She looked at her watch. “It’s…  _oh._  We should be going. You kids sure have a lot of energy!” she chuckled and walked back to the RV, head held high and a bounce in her step.

Stanley stuck out his tongue. “Aw, man. I just had to say somethin’. Oh well. I gotta leave, Darlene.”

“Aw, bye, Stan.”

Stanford, puffing, walked behind Grauntie Mabel up to the RV. Immediately, Grunkle Dipper looked up. “What are you doing here?”

“We’re leaving,” Grauntie Mabel pointed out and held out her watch.

“Oh no! Oh, darnit!” Grunkle Dipper started up the RV. “Why didn’t you remind me?”

“You were napping,” Grauntie Mabel pointed out and then added, “–and the kids were having fun.”

“We’ll be hard pressed to get to the camp site by nightfall!”

“I thought you took a shower.”

“Fell asleep.”

“Eh. They’ll have one at the Park, right? They still do that?”

“Yeah, in some of them.”

Stanford looked back at them. Grunkle Dipper keep this full attention on the road while Grauntie Mabel looked out the passenger window. “Stanley?”

“Yeah, bro?”

Stanford looked at his brother and then Fiddleford, Ivan, and Susan, who were across from them. “Um… maybe later.”

 

Later, Stanford and Fiddleford sat next to each other. In front of them was Stanford’s notebook, which was almost completely filled with notes and creatures they’d taken or found over the summer. Fiddleford’s fingers were intertwined with Stanford’s. As Fiddleford didn’t have as many fingers, Stanford’s hand enveloped his.

Grauntie Mabel called, “We’re in Gravity Falls!” The kids looked up. Everyone ran around to the front of the vehicle. They cheered as they passed up the “Welcome to GRAVITY FALLS!” sign.

Stanford shrugged. “I still feel a little bad about wrecking those tourist traps.”

“Aw, come on,” Grunkle Dipper waved his hand. “They’re harmless pranks! I sure no one is really upset over– _oh sweet lord!_ ” The RV stopped.

In front of them was the Space Shack. Graffiti spray-painted over the entire thing. “SPACE” had been sprayed over with the spray-painted words: “DIPPER IS A” The “S” in “SHACK” had fallen off again. Multiple signs were upside down as well as spray-painted words. Corn still in their shucks piled up in the doorway and windows. A ball of yarn crossed over the roof.

A man wearing a corn costume Swung a bat to destroy one of the headlights on the RV. “That’s what you get!” he barked. “ _That’s what you get!_ ” The owners of various tourist traps got in their cars and sped away.

Grunkle Dipper hopped onto the grass. “Oh, come on!”

Grauntie Mabel shook her head. “They got us good, bro.”

“This is going to take  _forever_  to clean up.”

Grauntie Mabel looked back. “Hey, road dogs! Who wants to help get the corn out of the house?”

Susan looked around. “I’ve got to get home and probably help at the diner.” She turned and strode away.

Stanley nodded. “Yep, yep! I should probably help these guys back to the lake or whatever. But we’ll be back Soon!” Stanley shooed Fiddleford, Stanford, and Ivan away from the Shack.

“Kids!” Grunkle Dipper and Grauntie Mabel called in unison.

The kids were too far away to hear. At least, they pretended that was a fact.

Grauntie Mabel took out a camera. “Welp, Scrapbookortunity!”

“Mabel! I swear to–!”  _Click!_

“Got it!”

 

A SS PHT UPI LZT EVMRCNXAGC.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vines and ropes may look alike, but they will never be the same just as implying it to be and making it real are so very different. I could use the lesson I learned here later on… Goodness me, I’m just so glad that everyone’s happy. Now that they got the shield on the Shack up and running, what a perfect time to go out on a three-day road trip away from the Shack! Eh-heh, the Pines are a weird family indeed. Really, you can’t blame them, not after referencing how fun a trip in the ol’ RV would be! Especially since we get to meet our other friends, like Darlene and Mermando!  
>  _Mermando's part inspired by[this picture](https://68.media.tumblr.com/9b388b55fe7e5b6771f60baff9af6e49/tumblr_nverrsttZq1qen34fo4_1280.png)!_
> 
>  
> 
> 10: _Otmtw Hqh Xzwn Hgvifph Lg Bemx A Uasflprghuu Cssv Ivki Aheij Ktgwkipr Xzw Wswle._


	15. Stanley and Stanford versus the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer is winding to a close. How about one last hurrah before they go back to their pare **n** ts’ house?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find the Title Card on dA:

The birdsong and leaves that flew on the wind swirled through the morning valley. In the increasingly wearing Space Shack, not too many occupants were still asleep. In fact, as the sun started to rise, it became evident that there was only one person in the house still asleep.

Hooked into the back of Stanford’s headboard were Stanley’s feet. His hands gripped the top, and he leaned forward so that he was nearly face-to-face with Stanford. Gompers looked up and spasmed, as if shocked. He let out a little bleat and relaxed again.

Eventually, Stanford yawned. “Gompers?” He opened his eyes and then yelled in fright as Stanford was three inches away from his face. “STANLEY!”

Fast enough to avoid being punched, Stanley whipped his head back and laughed. “Mornin’, Sixer!”

“Ugh!” Stanford sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Don’t you think you’re getting to old for this?”

“Te-hah! Actually, about that.” Stanley hopped onto Stanford’s bed and launched himself off so that he landed squarely on his feet on firm land. “I’m not! We’re thirteen, remember? Aaaaand guess who else is having a birthday!”

“Uh, who?” Stanford blinked and sat up.

“Really?” Stanley groaned. “Grunkle Dipper and Grauntie Mabel _obviously!_ ” He threw up his hands in a showy manner. Some glitter from the cookies he’d stolen last night fluttered off his fingers.

“Eh, yeah! Yeah, I remember!” Stanford perked up.

“Cool! Aaaaaaand only a few more months until eighth grade. You know what happens after that?”

“Oh my–! High school!” Stanford hopped to his feet, causing Gompers to bleat and jump off the bed. “We’re gunna be for-real teenagers in a for-real high school! Where boys become men!”

“Mhm, and curfews become obsolete!”

“Eh, huh!” The door opened, showing none other than Grauntie Mabel and Waddles. Waddles honked. Gompers bleated and bounced around him. “That’s not the only good news!” Grauntie Mabel exclaimed. “In one week, Dipper will finally let me take him across the state on my motorcycle! I wore him down _hard._ ”

Stanley claimed, “The future is coming for us all.”

Determination in his voice, Stanford exclaimed, “The future!”

“In the future!” Grauntie Mabel agreed.

 

Ford, Stan, Grunkle Dipper, and Grauntie Mabel gathered in the living room. A model of the Space Shack sat on the table along with a calendar holder pointing to the end date. Grauntie Mabel, dressed up in a pale pink cake and confetti sweater, a sombrero, and green shades glasses, stamped her hands on the table. “Alright, party people, and Dipper!” Dipper’s smile faded into a frown. “In one week, we are throwing the first birthday party we’ve had together in thirty whole years and this summer vacation comes to an end. You know what this means. We need to throw the greatest party of all time!” She threw up her hands. Stray glitter shimmered through the air around her fingers. “Ideas! You!”

Fast enough to keep her attention, Stanley exclaimed, “Piñatas! With smaller piñatas inside!”

“Exactly! Genius! You!”

“R-right! Invitations!” Stanford burst out.

“Everyone’s invited!” Grauntie Mabel cackled. “Everyone shall know the greatest birthday party this town has ever seen! Ra-haha!”

“Now, Mabel!” Grunkle Dipper’s voice raised so he could be heard. “I hope you aren’t planning another party at the house!”

“Tsk! I am! We need some roof to raise!”

“Look, this roof isn’t stable enough! Why don’t you throw one of your block parties?”

“You’re such a spoil sport, Dipper!” Grauntie Mabel frowned and turned to them. “Ah, well. We can find somewhere else. And if we don’t, we’ll throw it here, anyway. Hmm… suggestions?”

“First, it’s kinda your house.” Stanley shrugged. “So, you know. You could throw it here.”

“Ooooooor,” Stanford started. “We could go to the school gym.”

“Right! Yeah! The high school gym!” Grauntie Mabel agreed. “That Place is closed all summer.”

At this, Grunkle Dipper piped up, “What about Grenda’s house? She invited you over yesterday, right?”

“Look, Grenda’s just being polite.” Grauntie Mabel puffed. “If we can’t throw it at the gym, we need to have it here.”

“Look, Mabel,” Grunkle Dipper sighed, “–this roof just isn’t stable enough to be raised yet! After we do some repairs, I’m sure we can throw it here. Until then, we’ll just have to settle on the gym or Grenda’s house.”

Grauntie Mabel sighed. “Oh, fine. Fine. Why don’t you go ask the school for permission, then?”

Stanford piped up, “Or, I could go! I could ask if we can have the party there.”

Grauntie Mabel grinned. “There you go! You’re a great kid! In the meantime, I’m going out for supplies.”

“I need to run the Space Shack. Next tour is in ten minutes,” Grunkle Dipper reminded her. “Stanley, why don’t you go hand out invitations?”

Stanley stuck out his tongue. “Sure, sure. _I’ll_ be the pack mule for this.”

“Aw, you’re not a pack mule!” Grauntie Mabel dug out a thick packet of fliers and presented it to Stanley and a handful for Stanford. “You’re helping us all out! Now let’s move!” With that, she ran off, Waddles at heel.

Stanford nodded. “I’ll see you later, Stanley. Good luck!”

“Sure! Oh, wait. Here.” Stanley plucked a backpack from next to the couch and offered it to him. “A bag to hold everything you’re not bringing!”

“Thanks?” Stanford hooked the backpack over his shoulders.

“It also has a walkie-talkie. Talk to me!” With that, Stanley was off in the other direction, back-pack slung over his shoulder.

 

Stanley looked around and slunk into Mabel’s room. “You’re not going out for supplies,” he muttered. “You bought everything last night. What are you hiding?”

In her room, it was tidy and well decorated. She’d painted and decorated with surprising speed. Now it looked as if it had been this way forever, as if the bland walls and shag carpet had never existed. But what drew his attention the most was a rather large blackboard in the center of the room. Stanley’s eyes grew round. The blackboard was covered in writing and pictures, the largest of them being of the shattered rift, a world broken in two, distressed people and objects falling into what looked like an earthquake, a huge ‘X’ near the top, and Bill in the center.

Stanley jumped as Grauntie Mabel made her way back down the hall. He looked around and dove under the bed, scooting as far back as possible.

Grauntie Mabel walked in, her expression grim. Waddled honked quietly by her side. “Bill’s out there,” she muttered and set a hand on the bag at her side. “He’s not going to stop until everything is gone. Waddles?” _Honk._ “I need you to stay here, alright?” _Hoooonk._ “Yeah, I know. But Bill’s doing everything he can to get in here. I need you to watch the house and my bro. I don’t want him freaking out over this dumb rift. I certainly don’t want those kids in the line of fire if things do get hairy. Got it?” _Honk._ “Good.” She took a deep breath. “Well, time to go back to that spaceship. Alone. I hate going there alone. Bye, Waddles. See you tonight.”

With that, she was gone. Waddles slowly shambled out of the room, too.

“Spaceship?” Stanley breathed. “Oh, cool!” He quietly got to his feet and snuck after his great aunt as she left. Waddles, sitting on the porch, gave him a warning honk. Stanley paused only to show him the fliers. The space hog huffed and walked back inside. Chuckling inwardly and keeping out of sight, Stanley followed Grauntie Mabel away from the Space Shack and out in the wilderness.

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

Stanford, backpack over his shoulders, walked up to the high school. The large, square, brick high-school was surrounded by heavy woods. Students and adults buzzed about it. Why…? Oh, with school so close, they probably had sign-ups to do or freshman orientation or something.

A sign outside read “SAWDUST INHALATION DRILL – 8:00”. After skipping a line, “GO FIGHTING BEAVERS” was plainly stated. Daryl and Ed, giggling to themselves, flicked various letters off the sign.

Skirting the troublesome teens, Stanford made his way to the open doors on the side of the school. The gym was anything but empty. Students, most in line though some milled about or congregated near papers or posters, filled the gym. Some looked to be falling asleep, others typed at their phones, and more just stared around with dead eyes. “WELCOME BACK STUDENTS” was typed on a banner underneath the school logo above the gym exit doors. Stanford slipped in through the open doors. “Whoa. This place is packed.”

Dan turned and grinned. “Hey, Ford! What’s up?”

“Hello, Dan!” Stanford ran up to him. “So, what are you doing here, again?”

Dan’s smile left, and he rolled his eyes. “Ugh. High school registration.”

Stanford perked up. “Oh! You know, I’m only a year away from high school myself. How’d you describe your high school experience?”

“Terrible!” Dan burst out. “High school is the _worst._ Classes get super hard, your body just flat out turns against you, and, worst of all? Everyone hates you!”

Stanford, his smile fading, took a second to look around the room with Dan’s words in mind. Two girls, one dressed in a series of stormy grays and blacks with an angry cat shirt and the other in a short-skirt blue outfit, glowered and snarled at each other. The ring of kids around them seemed no less aggressive, though none of them openly balled their fists or pointed or got face-to-face with the one they loathed.

Toby, shuttering, curled up into a ball beside a padded wall. “I can’t do it!” he wheezed. “Can’t do another year!”

Janice glowered at a wall of class subjects. She snarled at Statistics. “My hormones are like an emotional cage!”

Stanley looked down at his papers. “Wow. That’s, weird.” _It can’t be worse than middle school. It can’t be worse than middle school. It can’t be worse than middle school!_ “Grauntie Mabel said high school was really fun.”

“Mabel’s sixty, man!” Dan took his shoulder, causing Stanford to look up at him. “Kids at rainbows for breakfast back then! If you can avoid growing up, _do it._ ” He let go and sighed. “Ugh. What I wouldn’t give to be twelve again.” A thought popped into his head. “Say, what are you doing here, again?”

Stanford hunched his shoulders with a weird chuckle. “Just lookin’ for a place to throw a birthday party.”

“Daniel Borduroy? I-I mean, Corduroy?” At the front of the line, a man behind the desk held up a paper and adjusted his glasses. The Rest of the students in line burst into muffled snickering and laughing. Someone threw a balled up paper and hit Dan in the head.

Dan, a reddish tinge coming to his cheeks and his hands balled into fists, growled, “See what I mean?” He turned on his heel and stalked down the line of still laughing students.

Stanford watched him go with wide eyes. Dan was the coolest, toughest dude he knew, and people were _laughing at him?_ Oh, man. If people were bold enough to act that way toward Dan, then Stanford didn’t stand a chance, did he?

 

Stanford sat down outside of the school and set his fliers and backpack down. Stanford picked up his walkie talkie. “Stanford to Stanley. We can have the party at the gym, but… we have to talk about high school.” He looked back at the gym. “I’m starting to think it might not be the great break we were expecting. Over.”

Stanley’s quick voice came through along with hissing radio static. “I’m going through a bad patch, Ford. We’ll talk when I get back.” The hissing stopped.

Stanford pressed down on the button. “Stanley? Come in, come in?”

“Tough Girl” Wendy’s shadow fell over him. “Hey, kid.” Her voice was oddly soft. “How about we deliver some invitations to your friends, huh?”

Stanford smiled. “Yeah! Yeah, okay!” He grabbed his things and ran back to the truck with Wendy. He buckled his seatbelt and jumped when “Tough Girl” Wendy honked.

“Hey!” “Tough Girl” Wendy called to Daryl and Ed, who were by the vandalized sign. “I see you here again, I’m getting out of this truck!” Daryl and Ed scattered–for good, this time. Their feet did not hide behind the sign that now read “NO ESCAPE”. Stanford’s gaze followed the sign with wide eyes.

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

Grauntie Mabel walked along a grassy hill overlooking the Floating Cliffs, Stanley some distance behind her. Stanley stayed low as Grauntie Mabel approached a rock in the middle of the field. Just as she pressed her hands to the smooth rock face and started to push it, Stanley’s walkie talkie hissed in static.

Stanley jumped and fished the walkie talkie out of his backpack. “Ford? Ugh, darn. Stupid walkie-talkie.” When he looked up, he found his great aunt half a foot away, hands on her hips and one eyebrow raised. He jumped to his feet and let out a very unmanly squeak before catching himself and putting away his walkie-talkie. “Uh… hi? Nice day out?”

“What are you doing all the way out here?” Grauntie Mabel prompted. Stanley could swear her left eye flickered, then, from brown to gold and back again. “Following me?”

Stanley stood up and brushed the dirt off his knees. “Pfft! No! I was, uh, exploring. We happened to cross paths. Yeah.”

Grauntie Mabel crossed her arms. “You know, I should probably be taking you back home. Buuuuut…” She looked back at the rock, which had been moved about two feet. “You caught me a bad time, Stan! I can’t take you all the way back home and come back. It’ll be dark by then.”

Stanley smiled. “Sooooooo? Does that mean I’ll just have to settle for following you into wherever you’re going?”

“Dipper wouldn’t appreciate it,” Grauntie Mabel pointed out. “And he’d be right. But he’d understand if you’re with me.” She bit her lip and sighed. “I won’t take you back, but only if you promise to listen to what I say, okay?”

Stanley stood up straight and put a hand to his chest. “Scout’s honor!”

“That’s my boy!” Grauntie Mabel grinned and turned around.

“So why are we up here, anyway?” Stanley prompted.

Grauntie Mabel’s smile faded into a nervous grimace. “Oh, right. Uh, well…” She looked back at him. “Do you remember that special thing I showed you? The rift? In the snow globe?”

Stanley nodded. “Yeah! You said that if it broke, it could destroy the universe.”

“Heh. Yeah. Well…” She gently let go of her backpack and pulled out the rift. A crack snaked through one side. “It’s cracking.”

“Cracking?” Stanley breathed. “Then, it could explode!”

Grauntie Mabel nodded. “Yep. If it explodes, our entire world could be destroyed!” She put it back in her backpack and put it on again. “In order to fix it, we’ll need a glue stronger than anything on Earth. Something… _out of this world._ ”

Stanley’s eyes went round. “What do you mean?”

Grauntie Mabel knelt beside him and pointed to the Floating Cliffs. “Okay, Stan. Look at those cliffs. Does that shape remind you of anything?”

Stanley looked over the cliffs. Two long, thin triangles had been carved out of both cliffs. The railroad above was flat at the top, but the supports curved up to make a sort of dome. What thing had that shape, though…?

Grauntie Mabel took out a keychain heavy with ornaments in her fist and held it out in front of him. She lifted one finger to let go of a little plastic, light-up UFO from Grunkle Dipper’s shop. Stanley looked at the little dangling thing and then the area behind it. “Shut up.”

Grauntie Mabel stood up and put away her keys. “According to my research, this _entire valley_ was formed when a UFO crash-landed here millions of years ago. Now, did all these crazy monsters come here to the UFO, or did the UFO make them? No one knows.”

“That’s crazy!” Stanley exclaimed, a wild grin coming to him. “Where’d it go?”

Grauntie Mabel glanced back at him and approached the rather large rock nestled in the grass before them. “Stan, sometimes the biggest and strangest things are hiding right under our noses.” She planted her hands on the rock and pushed it out of the way. “Or, in this case: under our feet!”

Below them, right where the rock had been, was a metal square imbued with carvings.

Grauntie Mabel pulled a bulbous gun out of her backpack. “Now, stand back. This magnet gun is super powerful. It could tear someone’s filling right out of their mouth from thirty yards away.” Stanley immediately took a few steps back. Grauntie Mabel cocked the gun and pointed it down. A line of squares along the side lit up in blue. The two prongs on the end sparked. The metal square on the ground bent up and then flipped outward like a door as Grauntie Mabel turned it off at the right time. “Boom. Ladder.”

Stanley gasped and looked down into the narrow, square hole. He couldn’t see past a few yards as it quickly turned black. “Whoa.”

Grauntie Mabel smiled. “Candy and I raided this place for _years_. Where do you think I got the materials for the portal?”

“You… I…” Stanley wheezed. What was he supposed to say? This was a real life, physical, actual, right-in-front-Of-him space ship!

Grauntie Mabel took out another gun and tossed it. Stanley scrambled to catch it. “Heh. Come along. Stay close to me and keep that gun with you.” Grauntie Mabel climbed down into the hole. “We’ve been down here _countless_ times. All the aliens have been dead for millions of years. Just keep your footing, and you’ll be fine.”

Stanford climbed in after her.

“Whoa,” Stanley breathed as they climbed down. “I can’t believe it. A UFO! Right below our feet! And we’re standing in it!”

Grauntie Mabel chuckled. “Ah, I remember when I first found out about this place. It was the coolest thing ever. Now I’m kinda just used to it.” She shrugged.

The two left the small hole and emerged in a spacious dome covered in runes, filled with objects, and teaming with plant life and small animals. For once, the paralyses of his fear of heights did not grip him. Awe smothered any fear he felt.

They landed on the metal ground in a small poof of dust and dirt.

Grauntie Mabel gestured to the place around them. “Candy, and I used to come down here all the time for parts and to study the language. Well, Candy studied the language, I took pictures of everything and picked up anything shiny I found.” She grinned wide enough to bare the gold tooth near the back of her mouth. “I got so many cool things! I’ll show you when we get home!”

“Sweet!” Stanley chuckled. “I should sneak after crazy people more often!”

“Ah-ah!” Mabel held up a finger. “Technically, you’re grounded when we get home. I just can’t take you back right now. And it’s still super cool, so I have to show you anyway.”

Stanley stuck out his tongue. However, he couldn’t summon any indignance or anger. Instead, he laughed, “This is amazing!” He spotted a wall covered in alien symbols and took a selfie by it. He giggled and ran off to join his great aunt as he fell behind a bit.

Grauntie Mabel took out Scrapbook Two, flipped through a few pages, and then showed off a page covered in pictures and words. “ALIEN ADHESIVE” was written on the top of the left page. “The stuff we need to seal the rift is an alien glue–one strong enough to keep the hull of a spacecraft together.” She stopped by the edge of a very large, very deep hole, shut the scrapbook, and offered it to Stanley, who took it immediately. “Just one dollop should be enough to seal a crack in space-time. Oh, and if it touches you, it will seal up all the orifices in your face.” She took out her magnet gun and cocked it. “So, try not to touch it.” She grinned and turned to a pillar breaking the center of the hole. “Now, take out your magnet gun, and follow me!” She pointed his gun at the pillar and took a running leap. The gun left a trail of sparks as she spiraled into the dark. A few seconds after she was completely out of sight, Grauntie Mabel turned on a light.

“Grauntie Mabel!” Stanley gasped and looked over the edge. He held onto his own magnet gun with an iron grip. Okay, okay, fear was coming back again.

“Your turn!” Grauntie Mabel called back. “Don’t worry, you could be carrying the whole family and that gun wouldn’t let go of whatever metal object you hold onto. It won’t drop you as long as you keep it turned on.”

“Uh… right, right. Turn on the gun.” Stanley fiddled with his gun. “Oh, turn on, already! Come on, come on–a-hah!” The gun’s lights lit up with a quiet _whirr._ “Magnet. I’m coming!” Stanley leaped off the precipice. He didn’t pull his gun down in time so, instead of going forward and using the pillar to go down, he was sucked up and hit the ceiling. “Ahh! Uh, help?”

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

Stanford looked out the window and watched the town go by. They came to a stop outside Fiddleford’s house. “Thanks for the ride!” Stanford opened the door and ran around to the front of the house.

“Tough Girl” Wendy yelled, “Good luck, kid!” before driving off.

He wasted no time in knocking. Something fell with a _crash_ inside, followed by a hasty “I’ll get that in a second!” from Stanford’s best friend.

Surprisingly, Susan opened the door. “Hey, Ford! What’s up?” Ivan appeared in her shadow. “We were just setting up a new game of DD&MD. Do you want to play?”

At that point, Fiddleford appeared. “Yeah! Ah’ve only just gotten the board out.”

Stanford grinned and chuckled. “Well, I would, but!” He dug through his bag. “I think I have something just as fun!” He held out a few fliers, which were taken from him quite quickly. “Grauntie Mabel and Grunkle Dipper are going to have their first birthday together in thirty years. Then Stanley and I are going to have to leave Gravity Falls since summer’s ending. So, it’s going to be the best party of the summer!”

Fiddleford’s smile left him. “Oh. It’s at the end of summer?”

Stanford’s own smile faltered. “Yes, it will be. Uh, why? Is something wrong?”

Susan nodded glumly. “Well, um… my parents are signing me up for music camp at the end of summer.” She shook her head. “There’s no getting out of music camp.”

Fiddleford nodded. “Ah’m spendin’ the last bit a’ summer with my family in Tennessee. Ivan’s gunna meet our extended fam’ly. Ah… Ah’m sorry.”

Stanford looked down at the fliers in his hands. “So… you’re not going to be here to wish us goodbye at the end of summer?”

Fiddleford shook his head. “Ah’m afraid not, Ford.” He took Stanford’s hand. “But Ah’m leavin’ near the _end_ a’ August. We still have some time ta spend together.”

“Yeah!” Susan smiled. “Where’s your brother? We can still get into some trouble before then!”

Stanford took his hand out of Fiddleford’s and put his stuff away. “Yeah, okay. I… Well, I’ll tell Stanley.” With that, he turned around and walked away, fishing his walkie talkie out of his bag as he did so. “Stanley? Stanley, we have to talk. The party mission is… going down.” The walkie-talkie hissed back at him. Stanford sighed and put away the instrument. The door quietly closed behind him.

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

Underground, Grauntie Mabel heaved open a set of doors that would normally snap together through magnets. With the power being gone for so long, they were just dead weights to push aside. She led Stanley into a large, circular room bristling with all types of sharp looking machinery. It was like some sort of metal monsters stuck their arms and heads down through the ceiling and threatened the space.

Grauntie Mabel held up her light. “This was their storage facility. At one point in time, this place would be very heavily guarded. Now, everything’s dead.” Grauntie Mabel’s feet passed over a faint beam of light emitted from the wall near the floor. Stanley’s much shorter legs passed straight through. A section above the light glowed. “Go ahead, press any button, flip any switch. They’ve been busted for millions of years by now.”

Stanley stopped and looked at a panel covered in symbols, most of which taking the form of circles and lines. He pressed a large button a few times. Nothing but a hollow _click-clunk_ came in response. Somewhere above them, a hole appeared in the ground and Sprott’s barn was Moved to the side. The platform holding the barn went back over the hole. The second time it opened and closed, the barn fell into the hole.

Sprott turned his head to look at the lonely cow in the field. “Clara? Did you eat my farm?” _Moo_.

Grauntie Mabel looked around the facility with sharp eyes. “The glue should be around here somewhere, so keep your eyes peeled.”

Stanley, ecstatic to be in such a place, looked around them with a wide grin. They passed up a skeleton with a broken helmet laying over a control panel of sorts. Its tail slipped over the panel by its head.

Grauntie Mabel went on, “Stan? Let me ask you something: have you thought much about your future?”

Stanley grinned. “Ford and I are goin’ to go monster huntin’ and travelin’ over the high seas! We’re goin’ to be the best pair of adventurers the world’s ever seen!”

Grauntie Mabel laughed and stopped by a half-circle shaped room of sorts without a wall to section it off. She knelt and put the light he’d been holding on the ground in the center of it. “It’s like talking to Dipper and me when we were kids.” She walked over to a shelf in the wall and started pulling down metal octagons. “You know, Stan, I’ve been thinking… you really like it here, right? And I am getting kinda old…” Grauntie Mabel muttered so quickly and quietly Stanley could hardly hear “ _–and Dipper never goes out anymore–_ ” She chuckled and went on, “I was thinking of getting someone to help me out with exploring and studying monsters.”

Stanley, who was plucking metal octagons out of a dispenser in a desk, hesitated. “What are you saying?”

Grauntie Mabel looked back at him, “I’ve been thinking, you know? You’re super enthusiastic and really fast about learning about all this. I’ve read the additions to the scrapbook. _And_ Dipper’s told me about the adventures you guys went on and hearing it from you… I’m super impressed with everything you’ve been doing. So, what do you think about coming around in the summer? Maybe helping me explore Gravity Falls more and more!”

Stanley had to remind himself to breath. His great aunt, the author of the scrapbooks, the coolest person on Earth, was asking _him_ to help? She was offering him a place by his side in monster hunting? In Gravity Falls? She was calling _him_ smart? She wasn’t comparing him to Ford… “I-I mean… I mean, it sounds awesome! But what about Ford? He’s always been the super smart one that’s into magical stuff.” Stanley couldn’t keep the downtrodden thoughts quiet.

Grauntie Mabel shook her head. “Stan, you and your brother both are amazing. Just because you’re twins doesn’t mean that you always have to compare yourself to him. You know, everyone kept calling Dipper the smart twin, but I came out alright! Stan, you’re a wonderful kid and an awesome adventurer! There’s nothing you can’t do.”

Stanley… didn’t know what to do. “Y-you really think that?”

“I know it!”

Stanly shrugged and looked away. To stay face, he brushed his fingers through his hair and cleared his throat. “Y-yeah. I mean–” He gasped as he activated the magnet gun and attracted a metal octagon. As he struggled to get his gun to let go and get the metal off, he revealed its underside. Pink goo emerged from the scratches on the bottom.

Grauntie Mabel gasped. “You did it! Stan, you found the adhesive!”

“I did?” Stanley pulled his magnet gun back to look at the square. Pink, lightly glowing goo stuck to the other side. Stanley grinned and looked up at her. “I did! Ha-ha!”

Grauntie Mabel laughed and hooked an arm around Stanley in a one-arm hug. “Great work! Let’s get a picture of this sucker, eh?”

_Kreegrikriiik._

Grauntie Mabel jumped to her feet as a gurgling, scratching noise sounded in the distance. She gripped the adhesive-covered metal in one hand and pointed her magnet gun in the direction of the noise.

Stanley bristled and jumped to his feet as well. Clinging to Grauntie Mabel’s hip, he breathed, “Grauntie Mabel? You said everything in here is _dead_ right?”

His great aunt nodded. “Yes. Everything in here is dead. But we might’ve–” She sucked in her breath. “The security system!”

Out of the darkness to their left, two very large silver orbs melted from the shadows. They hovered a good three or four feet off the ground and bore down on them at a slow, steady pace. One upside down triangle gave off a dull red glow on each face. Grauntie Mabel whipped around to face them. Stanley turned as well, half-hiding behind his guardian, his own gun in his hand. Maybe… maybe this spaceship adventure wasn’t turning out to be so fun after all.

“What do we do?!” Stanley hissed.

Grauntie Mabel set her gaze and started to slowly walk backwards. Stanley copied her and moved to the side in order to keep himself from being tripped over. “Listen to me very carefully: These are security droids and they detect fear. All you have to do is not feel any fear and they won’t see you.” She stopped. The droids slowed to a stop.

“What?!” Stanley looked up at Grauntie Mabel.

“It’s okay,” Grauntie Mabel soothed. “I’ve done this before. Just take a deep breath, focus on the mission at hand, and control your fear.” Grauntie Mabel’s hand shook a bit before she forced herself to calm down.

Stanley stuttered and took deep breaths to calm himself. He tried to shut his eyes, but the giant, floating, shiny droids that bore down on them were giving him no choice in the matter. _Come on, come on, come_ on! _Calm down, Stanley! Stop being a wimp! Man up and calm down!_

“Follow my lead!” Grauntie Mabel ordered. “Keep calm and _focus._ ”

Stanley took a step back and set his gaze. He couldn’t quell the thundering of his heart.

The closest droid took out a gun and pointed it straight at Stanley. Stanley gasped and scrambled back. “I-I-I-I can’t!” The droid’s gun glowed.

“GET DOWN!” Grauntie Mabel abandoned her position and tackled Stanley. The boy yelped as he tumbled backwards. The droid shot the space Stanley had occupied previously. Stanley’s magnet gun skittered and landed just out of reach of his fingers. Now the boy lay under Grauntie Mabel’s shadow as the woman hopped to her feet and turned on the security drones. Her magnet gun flared. The droid’s gun flashed. Grauntie Mabel howled as she was thrown backward. Her head hit the pile of metal octagons as she fell flat on her back. A hole burned through the clothes on her burned shoulder where the flash had gotten her. The passive droid shuttered and beeped in warning as Grauntie Mabel’s gun had gone off and shot it before spiraling away. It crashed into a wall with a puff of smoke and electricity.

The other droid turned as if watching it go before facing Grauntie Mabel again. It opened and four wire-tipped tubes whipped out and attacked Grauntie Mabel as the old woman sat up. She screamed as the machine coiled itself around her arms, midsection, and legs. “Oh no! NO!” She thrashed and flipped herself over so that she could get a good grip on the ground. Her fingers curled into the floor and her nails dragged across the metal floor like claws.

“Oh, wait! No!” Stanley pulled himself to his feet, grabbed his gun, and ran to his great aunt. He tripped over an octagonal metal piece and fell flat on his face.

“Stay back!” Grauntie Mabel’s eyes flashed up to meet the boy’s. “It’s too dangerous!” She let go of the floor with one hand and brought out the rift. She set it down and pushed it. The rift skidded over the floor before stopping at Stanley’s feet. “The rift! _That’s_ what’s important now!” She hissed in pain as the thing dragged her Into the air, forcing her to let go of the ground, and snapped shut. The wires let go of Grauntie Mabel, allowing her to sit up on her hands and knees in the tight space. “You’re gunna have to do this alone! Forget about me! Seal the rift, save the universe, Stan!”

The droid shuttered and blasted off through the hallway.

Stanley stuck the rift in his backpack and tore after them. “Grauntie Mabel! Hang on, I’m coming!” The droid ripped a path through cobwebs and vines and roots, leaving a relatively clear path of destruction for Stanley to follow. “I’ll get you out of there!” The droid slowed and melted halfway into a saucer-shaped object stuck in a wall stories high. “Where’s it taking you?”

The patterns carved into the metal floor glowed a brilliant pink-purple. A red grid covered in connected pink-purple symbols and circles appeared. As Grauntie Mabel spoke, various circles were highlighted and then zoomed in, where more circles and symbols appeared. “It’s an automated prison droid! And wherever it’s going, I’m not coming back.” Grauntie Mabel’s voice stayed hard and loud, but Stanley could hear the waver in the end of her speech. The thing ended with a purple globe covered in a spider web of squares. A long, red, jail-cell shape image appeared in front of the purple hologram with a hard _Brrrrrrr!_ Symbols appeared below it and started to change.

 _“What?”_ Stanley looked up as the top of the spacecraft opened. Dirt and debris rained down into the compartment. Stanley grimaced as sunlight, harsh and bright, flooded the crashed spaceship. Red symbols appeared before the saucer Grauntie Mabel was trapped within. A mechanical arm pushed the sunflower-seed-shaped saucer out. The red symbols changed all the while like a countdown.

“No, no, _NO!_ I’ll think of something!” Stanley yelled and ran after the spaceship. He looked about and then down at his gun. Stanley set his gaze and whipped out a roll of duct-tape. Space ships were made of metal, even prison droids!

“Stanley!” Grauntie Mabel cried, watching the boy running beneath him with round eyes. “What are you _doing?_ ”

Stanley turned on the device and rolled layers upon layers of duct-tape over it and his hand and wrist and upper arm to keep it steady. “Hold on, Grauntie Mabel!” Stanley yelled and stopped under the spacecraft as the thing holding his great aunt prisoner let go of the arm, stopped and flipped over so that the sunflower-seed-shaped saucer faced tip-up and prison-bubble down. It hovered a few meters above Stanley, now. “I’m getting you out of there one way or the other!” Stanley pointed up and activated the gun. It powered down. He gasped and banged on its side. The magnetic tips sparked in wild electricity. “No! Turn on! Turn on!”

The countdown behind them ticked down until all the symbols were the same.

Stanley compressed and let go of the trigger multiple times. “Come on, come on!” Then, a little green plus near the back of the gun, now on the only place that wasn’t compressed with duct-tape, glowed. Stanley was shot up and now held onto the bottom of the spacecraft, right next to his great aunt. Grauntie Mabel could only watch him in wide-eyed, speechless horror.

The spacecraft shuttered and then burst off through the tunnel to the surface. Stanley, screaming, flattened himself to the metal exterior of the prison. His eyes bulged, and his screams heightened in pitch as they barreled toward a sturdy metal grate. The spacecraft broke through it like wet paper and burst into the sky in a trail of smoke and fire.

Stanley gasped and wheezed. The wind shoved into him like a rapid current, trying vainly to push him away and throw him to his doom. The air started to get light. Oh, he was high up–so, so high up! Stanley looked down at the spacecraft with watery eyes and did the only thing he could think of doing. He punched the metal with all his might. “Let my great aunt go!” The spacecraft shuttered.

_Treee-ooo! Treee-ooo! Treee-ooo!_

The four dots on the front of the spacecraft flashed in red light as the old machinery started to malfunction.

Stanley kept his head down as the thing spiraled out of control, zipping every which way in a confused spiral. Trees shuttered and bent over as the wind from the spacecraft burst into them. The space craft barreled toward the cliffs. Stanley screamed and pulled his arm in front of himself to shield his eyes. The machine scraped through a very narrow slit in the cliffs where the wing tips of the alien spacecraft had originally cut through. Water from the cliffs spattered over the craft and stung Stanley’s arms. The townspeople gasped and ducked and held onto their hats as the spacecraft zoomed over them so low it nearly scraped the buildings. They burst through the water tower, spilling water over the park below.

The spacecraft shuttered on impact. Grauntie Mabel was thrown up, where she hit the top of her tiny prison, and fell limp on the bottom. Stanley looked down. Grauntie Mabel’s motionless form faced away from him. “Grauntie Mabel! Oh no. Okay.” He turned to the magnet gun that connected him to his only hope of survival. “Let’s try… magnet pulse!” He turned the dial on the butt of the weapon. The string of lights on the sides glowed and dimmed in a rapid pattern that pointed to the end of the gun. Ripples of magnetic energy shimmered over the craft. The spacecraft shuttered. Electricity arched and burst from various points in the spacecraft. It let out a warning cry as it rapidly lost altitude.

Trees exploded, and rocks dematerialized as the enemy craft crashed into the woods and momentum shoved it feet into the ground and yards forward.

Stanley, battered and torn, lay in the smoking ditch left behind. He groaned and blinked open his eyes. A few yards away, the broken spacecraft that held prisoner his unconscious great aunt lay smoking and dead. The duct tape on his hand and write had peeled and shredded, freeing his right hand. Stanley yelped in pain as he tried to get up. Stanley, eyes watering from the awful stench of metal smoke and the feeling of burning pain everywhere, got to his feet and ran over to the spacecraft.

Grauntie Mabel, covered in stray dirt and broken machinery, lay in a heap. A broken mechanical tendril that had dragged her into captivity lay over her.

Stanley grabbed onto one of her wrists and dragged her into the light. “Come on, man! Please! We have to get out of here before–”

 _Dzzzzzzzrrrrrrrr_.

Stanley turned around.

Smoking and sparking, the droid that had been shot hovered before them.

Stanley planted his feet in the ground before his great aunt and held out his magnet gun, which still had traces of duct tape. “Get back! I’m warning you! I have a magnet gun!”

The droid Shuttered as a giant gun spanning the length of its own gargantuan body unfolded from its top and pointed down. Lights glowed at the end pointed straight at him.

Stanley glowered at it. “Yeah? Think you can scare me? Do your worst! Nothin’ in this universe will separate me from my family again. Go ahead! Do your worst! Gimme what you got!”

The droid “stared” Stanley down. For the longest time, neither did anything. Stanley’s wheezing gasps for air and the droid’s quite whirrs were the only noise that dared interrupt the stunned, terrified silence the world around them lived in.

Then, the droid retracted its gun, shuttered, and collapsed.

Stanley put a hand on his chest and took a few seconds to calm himself down.

Grauntie Mabel laughed. Stanley whipped around. Behind him, Grauntie Mabel was sitting up with her hands planted firmly on the ground to keep herself upright. She looked up at her great nephew with a pride and reverence Stanley could hardly believe was aimed at him. Grauntie Mabel’s body shuttered in a cough. “Oh, oh I thought I was a goner, Stan.”

Stanley raced to her side and helped her up. “Are you alright? What just happened?”

Grauntie Mabel, leaning heavily on her great nephew, limped over to the side of the ditch and sat down with her back against the dirt wall. “The droid didn’t detect fear. It assumed the threat had passed and self-destructed.”

Stanley’s eyes grew round. “I-I did it?”

Grauntie Mabel smiled and shut her eyes. “You did it.”

Stanley looked over to the spacecraft and crept up to it. His own reflection warped and grew bigger as he stood before it. Behind him, Grauntie Mabel smiled back at him. “This is what I was talking about, Stan. How many other thirteen-year-olds do you know that could possibly do what you’ve just done?”

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

Stanford sat, cross-legged, in the middle of his room. He looked over a picture they’d taken a while back. He couldn’t remember what the occasion was, but everyone–Stanford, Stanley, Grauntie Mabel, Grunkle Dipper, Dan, Maria, Fiddleford, Ivan, Susan, Waddles, Gompers, all of Dan’s friends–had gone in for a group photo. Grauntie Mabel held the camera so her arm took up a bit of space. Everyone was grinning and laughing and there were some party supplies being used or having been used. The happy memory turned melancholic. He frowned at the paper he held.

Grunkle Dipper opened the door. “Hey, Ford. Are you alright?”

Stanford glanced up and then back down at the picture. He sighed. “Summer’s ending, Grunkle Dipper. I’m going to be leaving everyone. Now that I know how awful high school’s going to be, I’m… I’m in no hurry to move on.”

Grunkle Dipper sat down next to him and hooked an arm around him. “Ah, no one likes getting older. Heh. Just because you’re growing up doesn’t mean you have to grow up!”

“But I don’t want to say goodbye to Gravity Falls,” Stanford muttered, in a childish manner he knew. “We’ll be leaving everything behind!”

Grunkle Dipper shook his head. “Kid, you may not be in Gravity Falls, but you’ll never get rid of it.” He tapped Stanford’s head. “As long as those memories are still in your head,” he tapped Stanford’s chest, “–and in your heart, you’ll always be here. Besides, you’ll always have Stanley at your side, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” Stanford’s smile returned. “Stan! I can rely on him. We’ll always be together. And then we can go to high school together.”

“That’s the spirit!” Grunkle Dipper laughed and ruffled his hair. “You get to feeling better, Ford. Remember what we talked about. It’s okay to be afraid, you know.”

Stanford nodded and watched him leave. He looked back down at the picture, down at Stanley. “Yeah. I’ll always be able to rely on Stan. Good, reliable, brave, head-strong S–”

_Hsssss_

Stanford perked up. The walkie-talkie in his backpack came to life.

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

Stanley knelt beside his great aunt, who was currently resting. Grauntie Mabel, head tipped back, and eyes closed, sat with her back against an upturned pile of debris. She opened her eyes. “Stan?”

“Yeah, Grauntie Mabel?”

“You are an extraordinary kid.” Grauntie Mabel ruffled his hair, causing Stanley to duck out of her grasp and laugh. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this without telling you about it, first. I knew you had an interest in monsters and stuff, but… Dipper’s right. You’re still a kid.”

“I know,” Stanley agreed with a firm nod. “–and that’s why I need to be here! If I’m going to hunt down monsters, I’ll have to know about them, right?”

“Yes, you do,” Grauntie Mabel agreed. “You’ll also have to learn how to be careful, so you don’t end up as alien food.”

Stanley thought for a moment. “Well… you know a lot about the paranormal and you’ve already made big mistakes and learned from them. Could you teach me about them?”

Grauntie Mabel grinned. “So, you really mean it? You really want to stay with me and be an apprentice or something?”

Stanley nodded. He grabbed is bag, scooped his walkie-talkie into it, and sat down beside Grauntie Mabel. “Yeah, definitely! I mean, it would be awesome kicking butt and learning about magic and stuff here with you! You’re awesome!”

“That settles it!” Grauntie Mabel sat up straight. “This place is a magnet for things that are special, you know. It would be awesome to have you around here.”

Stanley’s grin faded a bit. “Oh, wait… what about Ford?”

“He can be with us, too,” Grauntie Mabel offered. “Or he could go back to New Jersey. I’m sure a school in a city would teach him a lot more than this place out in the middle of nowhere.”

“He’d feel pretty suffocated here,” Stanley agreed. He shook his head. “You know what? I’m staying here!”

“That’s the spirit! Come on, let’s go home and patch this up. Then we can have a great ol’ batch of cookies and hot cocoa!”

Stanley helped her up and, hooking an arm around Grauntie Mabel’s middle, allowed the old woman to lean on him as they made their way back home.

 

Sunset light sent hues of gold and red into the attic. It threw shadows and heated the already warm space. Stanford sat cross legged on his bed, facing the corner. The door opened. “Ford! You won’t even guess what happened!” Stanley took off his backpack and set it next to door. He jabbered on as he walked, “UFOs are real and there’s one under the town and I saved Grauntie Mabel’s life and… and… Ford?” Stanley found himself in the middle of the room by the time he noticed Stanford hadn’t even twitched to acknowledge his existence. “Ford, are you alright?”

“I-it’s not true,” Stanford stated, his voice muffled a bit and his breath shaky. “Tell me it’s not true, Stanley.” He turned around and held out his walkie talkie. “Mabel’s apprentice? _Seriously?_ ”

“Yeah,” Stanley answered. “Look, Ford, this is amazing! I can get to go on adventures with Grauntie Mabel and learn about magical monsters and stuff! I won’t have to be cooped up in a room tryin’ to read from those books I can’t remember!”

Stanford turned around completely. His shoulders were hunched, and he wrinkled his nose. “Well it’s a _horrible_ opportunity for me! I just had the worst day imaginable, short of someone dying!” He threw his hands in the air. “And you don’t Even care! Summer’s ending and we have to leave everything behind and go back home!” Stanford hopped to his feet. “I thought we were in this together!”

Stanley nodded. “We are! But, uh, you know, I was thinkin’ that… well…”

“Well _what?_ ” Stanford glared at him, though the action was incredibly weak. “You get to go off on some adventure and I have to stay home and to do the _boring_ work. You get to sneak out on adventures with Grauntie Mabel and I have to stay home and then that’s how it’s going to be from now on, right?”

“No!” Stanley bristled. “Stop assumin’ things! I almost _died!_ Those stupid alien robots tried to kill us! You’re worried about having your feelin’s hurt?”

Stanford rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Of course you’d find a way to almost die finding party supplies. That’s not the point. We’re supposed to be going back by the end of this summer without saying goodbye and you just want to send me off on my own?”

“No, it’s not like that! Would you stop thinking you know better than me and just _listen?”_

“I _am_ listening!” Stanford stalked up to him and held out the walkie-talkie. “And I _was_ listening! You just want to stay here and goof off and you don’t want me in your hair weighing you down like Grunkle Dipper does Grauntie Mabel, do you? Well, fine. You can take it, I don’t care. I’ll go home on my own and you can stay!” He stormed off, grabbing the backpack as he went.

Stanley ran to the door. “Ford, wait! Ford! Come back!”

 

Stanford ran out of the Space Shack and into the heavily wooded forest. He ran until his lungs started to hurt. Eventually, he plopped down under one of the ancient pines and curled up into himself. Under the sanctity of the trees where no one could see him, Stanford broke down and allowed himself to cry.

 

Stanley, Stanford’s bag in hand, trudged out of the elevator and into the basement. Grauntie Mabel set something up in a high shelf. She paused as the boy entered but didn’t look down. “Oh no… He didn’t take it well.”

Stanley shook his head. “Of course not. He just doesn’t _want_ to understand.”

Grauntie Mabel sighed and stepped down. “It’s hard right now, but once you two take a few breaths and have a few moments of thinking time, we can get this all settled, alright? But right now, we need to focus on the mission. Come on, I’ve got the glue.” She pulled out the octagonal, foreign slab of metal plastered with vibrant pinkish purple glue. “Hand me the rift and let’s make history.”

Stanley dug into the bag and then hesitated. He drew out a flier to the birthday party. Stanley blanched. He hardly choked out the obvious. “Ford has the rift.”

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

After he’d exhausted himself to the point where he’d fallen into sniffling and hiccupping, he stuck his hand into the backpack. “I just need to… huh? Where’d my notebook go?” He dug through the bag full of scattered wrappers, trinkets, and shiny trash items. He dropped them in the backpack with a groan. “Ugh. Wrong backpack.” He curled up into a tighter ball. “Why do I have to leave? Why can’t summer just last forever?” he mumbled and hiccupped.

“That might be possible!”

Stanford jumped and looked up. “Wh-who’s there?”

“S-S-S-Stanford, it’s me,” the cracking voice stammered.

“What?” Stanford stared at the trees before him. “Who are you?”

Materializing before him was the portly, mostly bald time-traveler whom they’d given his hair and job back. His goggles flashed in the dull sunset light. “I-I-I can help.”

“Blendin?” Stanford wiped his face and sat up straight. “What are you doing here?”

Blendin stopped just a pace short of Stanley. “Y-you said you don’t want summer to end, right? D-did-did I hear that right?”

Stanford nodded slowly. “Yeah. Why?”

Blendin shifted his weight. “Look, maybe it’s against the rules, b-b-but you did a favor for me, so I-I thought I could help you out.” His grin widened, and he set a hand behind his back. “It’s called a time bubble, and it prevents time from going forward. Summer in Gravity Falls can last as long as you want it to!”

Stanford wiped his face again. “How does it work?”

Blendin held up his arm and tapped a device on his wrist. A blue hologram of the cracked rift floated above his wrist. “I-I just need you to get a little gizmo for me from your aunt. It’s something small. Sh-sh-she won’t even know it’s missing.”

Stanley watched the universe shift and deform in the hologram container. He rifled through his brother’s pack. “Okay. I think Stan has something like that in his bag.”

 

Stanley and Grauntie Mabel ran out of the house. Grauntie Mabel looked down at Stanley. “Okay. We’ll need to split up and find your brother _fast._ I’ll go out back, you search the front. Now!” She ran back around the Shack. Stanley nodded and bolted into the woods. He looked around as he went. Broken stick here, torn up leaves there. He wasn’t a master tracker, but he did know a stumble-run when he saw it.

_“Okay. I think Stan has something like that in his bag.”_

The words came to Stanley. His blood turned to ice. He pushed himself to run faster, to get to the source of the noise before Hell could come to Earth.

There Stanford was, sitting beneath a tree. Red rings accented his puffy eyes and tears stained his cheeks. In front of him was Blendin Blandin.

“Ford!” Stanley yelled as he stumbled into the clearing.

Stanford jumped and Blendin turned to Stanley so quickly his neck nearly snapped. “Wha–Stanley?”

“Ford, don’t touch that snow globe.” Stanley held out his hands and walked up to his brother.

Stanford narrowed his eyes at him. “Yeah? Why not?”

“It’s _very_ fragile,” Stanley stated. “It’s actually a container for a rift. It if breaks–which it’s about to do–Bill will come into our world.”

Stanford looked at Blendin. “I thought you said it was something small.”

“It is!” Blendin agreed. “I-I-It looks like another one of your g-great uncle’s space snow globes.”

Stanford turned it over. “It _does_ look like one of Grunkle Dipper’s snow globes.”

“Because that’s what Bill’s place looks like!” Stanley agreed. He was almost within range of the backpack to take it. “Blendin’s _lying._ ”

“No, he’s not.” Stanford glared up at Stanley. “I know what the mental realm looks like. You’re just scared of disappointing Grauntie Mabel.”

“No! No, I’m _real_ concerned about the state of our universe, Ford,” Stanley warned. “Come on. Jus’… let go of the rift and give me back my bag. We can settle this. We don’t need a time traveler that hates us to help.”

“Y-you helped me,” Blendin offered. “I-I’m just returning the favor! Th-think, Stanford. I-I-If I don’t have that trinket, I-I can’t m-make that time bubble.”

Stanford looked between them. Stanley could see the gears turning in his head. Was he seriously considering giving away the rift for some lie like a time bubble? “Ford, please. This is really important.”

“This is important, too.” Stanford tore the rift out of the bag and stood up.

“NO!” Stanley lunged at Stanford and grabbed the rift. The two ended up falling onto the forest floor, fighting over the rift. “This could destroy the universe, Ford!”

“You’re being overdramatic, traitor!” Stanford barked and kicked him away. He stood up and held the rift to his chest. Stanley grabbed the object and the two continued their quarrel.

“He’s lying to you! Stop being selfish and open your eyes!” Stanley snapped and kicked him. Stanford fell onto his back. A branch snapped beneath him as he fell. He glowered at Stanley and threw his brother back again. Blendin watched the fight with a painfully large grin.

“I’m not the selfish one!” Stanford snapped and tore the rift out of Stanley’s hands.

Their skirmish stopped as Stanley, fed up with the fight, decked Stanford.

Stanford, a hand over his nose and cracked glasses riding up a bit, staggered and tripped over himself so that he landed hard on his back.

Stanley gasped. “Oh no! Ford, I-I didn’t-” He yelped as Stanford struck blindly. His foot hit Stanley’s knee. Stanley’s leg gave out and fell onto his shoulder. The rift, once grasped firmly in his hands, rolled away from him.

The two boys watched in shock and horror as Blendin picked up the rift. His voice suddenly became very smooth and cold. “Thank you, Stanford.” He held it out and dropped it. The rift _shattered._ Blendin’s foot came down hard and rubbed it in, breaking more glass and smothering the universe-colored liquid.

Stanley scrambled back. “Wh-what?!”

Blendin fell into a loud, harsh, uncontrollable fit of laughter. He plucked his goggles off his face, revealing two yellow eyes with cat-like pupils. His laugh changed in pitch and became the bone-chilling, paralysis-inducing laugh Stanley knew all too well.

Stanford yelped, “Oh no! No! Wait!” His back hit the tree. “I didn’t mean it!”

Stanley stood up, gulping and staring at Blendin with wide eyes.

Blendin interrupted his laugh long enough to snap his fingers. Stanford fainted. Blendin hovered a foot or so in the air, doubled over as if kicked in the gut, and then flipped himself over so far back so hard he nearly snapped his own spine. Bill squeezed out his belly, cackling and howling like a madman. Blendin fell onto the red-and-orange forest hard on his back. “ **AT LAST! AT LONG, LONG LAST! THE GATEWAY BETWEEN WORLDS HAS OPENED! THE EVENT ONE BILLION YEARS PROPHESIZED HAS FINALLY COME TO PASS! THE DAY HAS COME! THE WORLD IS FINALLY _MINE!_** ” Bill shouted to the heavens as he ascended into the cloudy sky.

The wind picked up. All around them, the forest shuttered and moaned, and the clouds scurried and frothed. The broken remnants of the rift crackled and then burst. A blue, translucent laser arched and crackled and zipped up like lightning. The laser expanded and shot up into the clouds. A giant ‘X’ ripped through the sky. Bill’s maniacal laughter rang out through the terrified, shocked forest.

In the town below, the townsfolk could only watch in pure shock as a rip tore through the sky, revealing a psychedelic, ever-shifting merge of vibrant colors and rainbows like oil in water shifting in the light. Clouds leaked up like a lava lamp. Their mouths opened, and eyes grew wide as they gazed upon the nightmare unfurling before them.

Grunkle Dipper ran out into the yard of the Space Shack, where Grauntie Mabel met him. The two stopped in their tracks. The Nightmare Realm gave off an earie, multi-colored glow that the dying sun could not overpower. It threw their shadows in weird directions and lit up their dirty clothes and hair and skin in weird hues. Grunkle Dipper looked up at the rip in the sky. “What’s going on? What is that? WHAT HAPPENED?”

“It’s too late,” Grauntie Mabel wheezed. “It broke.”

Bill’s shadow fell over them as he rose into the sky, cackling and howling in delight.

 

NFI IIFX IF VMDW E QRR FQEI? CF. MQIZ, CDL RA! PWVT ZH SWWW!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AT LONG, LONG LAST! THE EVENT ONE BILLION YEARS PROPHESIZED HAS FINALLY COME TO PASS! BILL WILL FINALLY HAVE HIS DAY! AH, GRAVITY FALLS, IT’S GOOD TO BE BACK. SO MUCH TO SEE, SO MUCH TO DO. HELL, IT’LL BE HARD FINDING THE TIME FOR EVERYONE! VAIL YOUR HEADS! I HAVE BIG PLANS FOR YOU, YOU HEAR ME? GREAT! NOW, LET’S GET RIGHT TO IT! EY, LISTEN UP YOU ONE LIFESPAN, THREE-DIMENSIONAL, FIVE-SENSE, SKIN PUPPETS! REMEMBER THIS DAY! EVERYONE, WELCOME TO WEIRDMAGGEDON!**
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> 7: _Iys Rclygv Qauww Urgfmj jdi Gauw Xwrb Ub Vstj Cfpwvh rbp Vgx Pckmgk Ldn Htmq Apeh._


	16. Weirdmaggedon: Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zkhq **J** udylwb Idoov dqg Hduwk ehfrphv Vnb, Ihdu wkh Ehdvw zlwk Mxvw Rqh Hbh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find the Title Card on dA:
> 
> WARNING: Animal murder and gross disfiguration

The sleepy town of Gravity Falls had been plunged into chaos.

Hell ravaged trees shuttered and groaned in the confusing mess of directionless wind. Objects as large as soft-ball size rocks rose off the ground. The very air shuttered in the chaos. Overhead, the red and purple sky was broken by a giant “X” rip in the sky, revealing a plane of psychedelic oil, shifting and shining in the colors of the rainbow. In the center of the sky, his black and white body sharp against the lights of the Nightmare Realm, Bill shrieked his laughter and spread wide his arms in the joy of his plans finally, _finally,_ coming to fruition.

Ecstatic, Bill floated above them. “ **OH, IT’S HAPPENING!** ” Bill laughed. Blue bulbs of energy swirled and condensed on his triangular body. “ **IT’S FINALLY, FINALLY, HAPPENING!** ” The blue energy bulbs melted into his silver skin. Flesh crept up from his bottom side and enveloped his body. Lightning shrieked around him. Bill crossed his arms. Metal plates reared and snapped over his body. “ **PHYSICAL FORM? DON’T MIND IF I…** ” He snapped his arms out. The metal splintered and his body, for a measly moment, was constructed of crystal. “ ** _...DO!_** ” His body glowed and then flashed in a brilliant white light so that he became a triangular sun in the sky.

Yawning and grimacing in the forest below, Blendin woke up. “H-huh? Wh-what’s just happened?” He put a hand on his head and looked around. Stanford, utterly unconscious, glowed in soft red light as he was lifted into the air. Stanley gasped as his unconscious brother was torn out of his hands. Stanford’s arms, legs, and head hung like a ragdoll out of stuffing and his clothes waved in the wind. “O-oh. Oh man! This is bad!” The soft red glow around Stanford expanded into a bubble. Its glow became sharp and opaque as it made a hot pink bubble with a blood red six-fingered hand stamped on the side. Three chains whipped around it and snapped in place. “Oh, this is real bad!” Blendin jabbered on. He pressed something on his watch. “Guys, we’ve got a situation!” He was gone in a flash of light.

 

Unfortunately, the town fared no better. The people stopped what they were doing and looked up. A frisbee smacked one of the Corduroy kids in the face. Another person dropped their groceries.

Sheriff Nate and Deputy Lee recoiled. “What the–?”

Eye wide, “Growling” Grenda opened her failing eye. “What?”

Dooming shadow falling over them all, Bill floated above the town. People backed up or shied away or stood up against the giant shadow that fell over them. “Tough Girl” Wendy, glaring daggers, swept her youngest sons into her arms. Preston took a few steps back until he was behind Pacifica. Bill laughed, his voice deep and booming. Blacker than the void of a stormy night with outlined bricks lighter than the sun, Bill floated above them. He’d turned into a pyramid and broken into three pieces. His Middle and bottom piece both rotated in different directions as he gained pleasure in playing with his newfound power. Six arms burst out of him, all turned up and all glowing in blue fire.

Terror-inducing voice booming like thunder, Bill roared, _“ **ALRIGHT, LISTEN UP YOU ONE LIFESPAN, THREE-DIMENSIONAL, FIVE-SENSE, SKIN PUPPETS!** ”_ He melted back into a single triangle, quite like his regular self, though he kept the odd colors. His voice transformed back into its normal, high-pitched self. “ **FOR ONE TRILLION YEARS I’VE BEEN TRAPPED IN MY OWN DECAYING DIMENSION** ,” Bill lowered himself so that he stood on the pole the statue of Nathaniel Northwest held and set a hand on his head. “ **-WAITING FOR A NEW UNIVERSE TO CALL MY OWN. NAME’S BILL!** ”

Oh now he floated away from the statue and appeared above the crowd. His dark colors melted back into the shades of gold he normally wore. “ **BUT YOU CAN CALL ME YOUR NEW LORD AND MASTER FOR ALL OF ETERNITY!** ” Without a breath out of place, Bill turned around. His pupil turned into a blue laser and melted Nathaniel Northwest’s statue until it was a red-hot glob of molten, and then rapidly cooling, stone. The crowd gasped. He turned around so that he faced the crowd again. “ **NOW MEET THE GANG OF INTERDIMENSIONAL CRIMINALS AND NIGHTMARES I CALL MY FRIENDS! EIGHT-BALL! KRYPTOS! THE BEING WHOSE NAME MUST NEVER BE SAID!** ”

Bill whipped his hand out, inviting those he called. A greenish gold goblin creature with chains over its left ankle and wrist floated down from the rift, his mouth open and eight-ball eyes lazily gazing in uncontrolled directions. A chattering bluish gray diamond etched with fine designs descended, cackling, from the portal–arms spread wide and legs in front of him to aid in his descent. A giant, moldy-bread shaped monster bristling with a few shrubs and armed with ape arms and legs jumped from the rift and crashed into the ground, causing the whole town to shutter. A tiny party hat popped out of its head.

Eventually, Bill laughed. “ **OH, WHAT THE HECK! IT’S XANTHAR! THEN OF COURSE, THERE’S ALSO TEETH, KEYHOLE, HECTOGORGON, AMORPHOUS SHAPE, PYRONICA, PACI-FIRE, AND THESE GUYS.** ” A walking pair of dentures taller than Deputy Lee, a bluish, squat humanoid with a giant forehead with a key-shaped hole in its forehead, a red octagon with a mustache half the size of its face, and a line of boxes and squares with dangling cords appeared around him. A tall, one-eyed, horned, pink humanoid alight in light pink flames leaned on a squat, gray creature with eyes on his chest and a pacifier hooked on a chain to its leg taking up most of its belly. Around them floated a horde of eyeballs with giant black bat wings accented red. “ **THIS IS OUR TOWN NOW, BOYS!** ”

Bill set his hands on his “hips” and laughed. His friends laughed uproariously, stamping their feet and raising their voices and punching the air.

Entranced and in terror, the town waited for the monsters to quiet down a bit before Mayor Gordy took a step forward. “Now see here, you unholy triangle fella! As mayor, I strongly urge you to get out of here!” He pointed back to the sky.

Speech bolstering their own courage, the other townsfolk began to speak. “Growling” Grenda glared at him. “Yeah! Things with one eye are weird!”

“Tough-Girl” Wendy agreed, “We punch what _threatens us!_ ”

Fiercely, Susan yelled, “We don’t like out-of-towners!”

Ready to do the Northwests the “justice the rich deserved”, Preston took a step forward. “I would just like to say that, as a rich capitalist, I welcome your tyrannical rule. Perhaps I could be one of your, uh… horsemen of the apocalypse?”

Instantly, Pacifica and Tiffany shot a nervous glance at him. “Preston!”

“Eh, not now, Mother.” Preston waved his hand with a hiss.

Now Bill, so far less-than-mildly amused, crossed his legs a put a finger to his face, just above his bow tie. “ **OH, WOW THAT’S A GREAT OFFER.** ” He lowered his arms and stared at Preston. “ **HOW ’BOUT, INSTEAD, I SHUFFLE THE FUNCTIONS OF EVERY HOLE IN YOUR FACE?** ” He snapped his fingers.

“Don’t! _Preston!”_ Pacifica gasped.

Shutting his eyes, Preston flinched and shrunk back. But, the muffled scream of terror and horror did not come from him. Pacifica now stood between him and Bill. Her face shifted. In place of her eyes were ears. In place of her mouth was one very large eye. Her ears were replaced with nostrils. She screamed and fell on her knees. After a bit of flailing, she tried to get to her family, who stepped back, and fell flat on her stomach.

The crowd was set off and the townspeople scattered.

Bill laughed as people, screaming, scurried away like spiders from under a rock. He pointed his finger and shot a blue laser at Deputy Lee, who turned to stone. Sherriff Nate managed to catch him. “Lee!” A bat swooped by and caught Lee in its red gaze. Sherriff Nate clung the statue of his fellow officer. “Deputy Lee! _NO!_ ” He fell in a stumble as Deputy Lee was ripped from his grasp and flown away.

Behind Bill, the water tower with an alien-space-craft-shaped hole came to life and started walking.

Bill clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “ **IT’S TIME WE DO A LITTLE REDECORATING. I COULD REALLY USE A CASTLE OF SOME KIND!** ” Bill raised his arms beside him. From the forest, stone and bricks flew up and formed into a dark maroon pyramid whose cracks glowed in red and gold light floating in the sky. It’s tip, disconnected, hovered a few yards above it. A cloud of debris floated around the base of the pyramid. Bill turned to the town. “ **AND HOW ABOUT SOME BUBBLES OF _PURE MADNESS!_** ” Bubbles shifting like oil on water in various colors and hues emerged from the forest and thin air and floated down the streets. A purple one passed through Farmer Sprott, who ripped off his shirt and screamed bloody murder as it passed over him.

Bill continued to yell as the world bowed and twisted to his whim. “ **THIS PARTY NEVER STOPS. TIME IS DEAD, AND MEANING HAS NO MEANING. EXISTANCE IS UPSIDE DOWN AND I RULE SUPREME. _WELCOME, ONE AND ALL, TO WEIRDMAGEDDON!_** ” Around him, the clocks stopped. Birds stopped in flight, some beaks were opened in mid scream. A shockwave burst from the pyramid in the sky and washed over the town. Inanimate objects ran along with the gargantuan monsters that had been summoned. Blood rained from some heavy clouds. Eye-bats scattered in the wind. The giant lumberjack statue by the burning gas station turned its head and started to roam the streets. The Gravity Falls waterfall shifted. The water ran red and flowed up into the maroon clouds above. The trees grew feet.

Standing before the Space Shack, Dipper and Mabel faced the chaos. Dipper stared into the Nightmare Realm. “So, this is how the world ends.”

“Weirdmaggedon,” Mabel agreed.

The two gasped and ducked as birds swooped in and flew overhead. Animals ran from the forest in herds. Snakes slipped between badgers and rabbits hopped alongside foxes. Wolves ran with deer and gnomes, hissing and complaining in passing, scrambled over the feet of a manotaur.

Mabel held her brother’s wrist. “The rift is shattered. The Nightmare Realm, Bill’s world, is spilling into ours. Every minute this goes on, he grows stronger.”

Dipper stared into the forest and shook his head. “Stans! They’re in the forest, I saw them run off. They’re in danger, they have to be!”

He started to run off when Mabel tightened her grip on his wrist. “Dipper! Listen to me. We have to stop Bill. If we blast him back through the rift he came out of, we may be able to stop him before his weirdness spreads to the entire globe. I’ll send Waddles out after them in the meantime, okay?” She put two fingers to her mouth and whistled. Instantly, the baby space hog bounded out of the house and stood by Mabel’s side. “Go find Stanford and Stanley, Waddles!” The space hog honked and darted into the trees.

“You’re sure defeating Bill is possible?” Dipper prompted.

Mabel took a shaky breath. “No.” She looked back at him. “But we have to try, right? You’ll follow me?”

Dipper nodded. “To the ends of the Earth.”

“Good.” Mabel gained a small smile. “Because that’s where we’re going. But first, let’s step inside.” The older twins raced into the Space Shack.

A gnome pointed to his home and the weird purplish wave that washed over Gravity Falls. “ _Weirdness wave!_ ”

Inanimate objects around the town grew eyes and teeth and legs and screeched as they abandoned their former positions.

 

Fiddleford, in his backyard, watched Bill’s ascent with wide eyes. He could hardly even breathe. His mind went blank. He may as well have been in another universe trying to understand alien philosophy under threat of death. At least then, he’d understand what was going on.

Fiddleford sucked in his breath As his father scooped him up and ran into the house. He managed to throw him into Fiddleford’s room before the wave passed over them.

The boy scrambled to his feet and looked out the window. He gasped. “Oh my–Dad!” He turned around and ran into the house. “Dad! Where are you?”

“Hush, Fiddleford.” Tate emerged from the shop, Ivan held tight in his arms. “Ivan, go with Fiddleford. Stay in your room and do _not_ come out.”

Ivan ran over to Fiddleford and tackle-hugged him. Fiddleford hugged him back and looked up at his father. “B-but what about–?”

“I’ll nail down the house. Now go!” Tate pointed down the hallway, his voice firm and hard in an “angry-because-I-love-you” tone. Fiddleford nodded and darted down the hallway.

Fiddleford had just shut the door to their room when a wave of energy crashed over them. He shuttered and tightened his grip on his younger brother. Sounds from the house ceased as Tate stopped preparing the house. Fiddleford hesitated. “…Dad?”

No response.

“Dad? Ya here?” Fiddleford put down the terror that was seeping into his voice. Ivan was terrified. He couldn’t freeze up, now. Not when Ivan needed him.

After the third time Fiddleford called without response, Fiddleford opened the door. “Stay. Here,” he breathed. Ivan let go of him and stepped back. Fiddleford peeked out of the hallway into the shop. The door was open. Tate was in the doorway, struggling to pull the door closed as a fishing pole that had come to life was tugging it open. An eye bat swooped down, its large black wings casting a grave shadow over them all. Fiddleford could only watch as his father, finally losing his grip, stumbled straight back into the red beam. In seconds, he was a stone statue. Fiddleford clamped his hand over his own mouth, watching as his father was taken away.

“F-Fiddleford?” A tiny voice came from down the hall.

Fiddleford turned around to see Ivan’s head poking out of his room.

“Fiddleford, where’s–?”

Fiddleford shook his head and ran to his brother’s side. “Look, Ivan, it ain’t safe here. Ah need ya to gather up some clothes. Ah’ll take some food. Ah have a robot out back we can sneak out in. But Ah need ya to be quick an’ quiet. Alright?” Ivan gulped, nodded, and ran back into the room. Fiddleford glanced back at the bait shop. Giving orders and making a plan had calmed him down a bit. “Ah’ll take care a’ him. Ah’ll take care a’ us both. Ah promise.”

 

Out in the woods, a weirdness wave washed over the tracking baby space hog. He grew and grew until his was taller than the Space Shack to the shoulder. He blinked, honked, and then ambled into town.

 

In town, the arcade exploded as video game characters came to life. .Giffany McLightning punched the air. “Ha! Freedom! Freedom to _punch!_ ”

 

Gravity Falls Maximum Security Prison stood tall and hardy, even in the apocalypse. Within the barb-tipped, heavy concrete walls, a group of inmates sat in a room with a man in a paint-smudged painter’s smock. A slew of pictures decorated one wall.

The man held up a hand to the pictures. “Okay, inmates, time to review your finger paintings.” He nodded his head to each picture as he passed. “Good. Nice. Mhm.” He gasped and stopped by Gideon’s painting, which was torn and decorate with a knife. “REVENGE” scrawled across it. He sighed. “Gideon, does this look like someone who’s ready to re-enter society?”

A massive man with a great, bright brown beard and mullet and ghostly white eyes yelled, “Gideon’s unappreciated in his time!”

Gideon grinned. “Oh, Ghost-Eyes, you’re makin’ me blush!”

Another prisoner agreed, “Gideon makes prison life worth livin’.”

All of the prisoners excluding Gideon started chanting his name. Gideon crossed his arms and smirked at the man in the painter’s smock.

They gasped as the ground shuttered. Waddles bit the top corner of the entire building off. More rubble fell and broke off more pipes and stone. Waddles spat out the tasteless cement and pipes and went on to find a better meal.

Everyone but the man in the painter’s smock, who’d been mostly buried in the rubble, went to the edge of the building and looked out at the monster-ridden nightmare outside, eyes wide and mouths agape. A blue, three-headed bird with glowing red eyes landed on Gideon’s finger. It opened its toothy beaks and let out a shrill shriek before Calming. Gideon smiled. “Oh my. Bill came through.”

 

Stanley watched as his brother was lifted out of reach, cocooned in a large red bubble, and then rushed away. The blast of air that tailed it like a charging alien prison drone caused Stanley to cough and put his arm over his face. Stanford’s glasses clattered to ground before Stanley’s knees. Stanley, coughing, picked up the eyewear. “Ford, no. No, I’m sorry! Ford! Stanford!” Stanley jumped to his feet and looked around. But Stanford was nowhere in sight. He couldn’t see the bubble above the ancient, tall pine trees. The time-travel guy was nowhere in sight. Stanley pocketed the glasses and ran to the Space Shack. Maybe he could find Grauntie Mabel or Grunkle Dipper and they could help him find–

Stanley yelled as a monster crunched the branches on the trail before him, obliterating a tree, squishing bushes, and scattering wildlife. It turned on him and snarled. He raced in opposite direction, back to town. Yes, make it to town. Then he could find his way back! But, as Stanley ran, the monster kept chasing him. He legs started to grow weary. Stanley started to slow down.

In a panic, he rushed around a broken clocktower near the edge of town. He just caught the tail-end of Bill and his friends riding away on a giant, flying car. Three burning books–very familiar, long books with purple covers and shooting stars–smoldered on the ground before a melted statue.

Stanley, shivering, hid under the shadow of a crumbled building. He could see the giant feet of his pursuer on the ground. Its eyes scanned the ruined grass and bushes and trees for its prey. Stanley scrambled farther under the wreckage to evade them. He bit his tongue to keep from making a noise as a fractured pipe tore his jacket and pressed down on his side. Glass shards pressed into his hands and legs. Broken concrete threatened to suffocate him.

Eventually, the demon grew bored and gave up on its hunt. Still, Stanley waited, terrified, under the wreckage. After ten minutes of not hearing its nightmarish grumbling, Stanley poked his head out from under his hiding place’s shadow. They were nowhere in sight. Cautiously, he slunk out from under the wreckage. He turned on his walkie talkie. “F-Ford? Can you hear me?” Nothing. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I’m sorry.” He whimpered. “Please answer me. Please, please, please, _please_ answer me. Ford? Stanford? Where are you? Why aren’t you answering? Stanford?” Stanley, unable to comprehend the chaos around him, shut his eyes tight and contented himself to muttering his brother’s name over and over again. His finger slipped off the button. His walkie talkie was no longer giving out a signal.

Eventually, he couldn’t continue any longer. Breathless, he stopped his mumbling. He realized, now, as he quieted himself that he had no longer been speaking. All that came out was a wheeze. His throat hurt. His mouth was dry. Stanley sniffled and looked about. Fires popped up somewhere in the distance. The acrid stench of plastic smoke burned his nose.

Stanley slunk through the streets. He hid under the shadow of a trashcan as another eyeball bat flew by. A possessed grill slunk through the streets. A raccoon popped out of the trashcan Stanley hid under. He put a hand over his own mouth to keep from screaming at the sudden appearance of the creature. He scrambled over a wooden fence and checked the sky. Thankfully, nothing had detected him.

Stanley kept moving. “Where are you?” he breathed. “Come on, where are you? Where is anyone?” Stanley, Grauntie Mabel, Grunkle Dipper, Fiddleford, Dan, Ivan, Susan, Daryl, Ed, Greg, Toby, Janice–anyone! He’d cry tears of joy just to see Janice’s dumb face again! …if he could find any of them, that is. Teens–especially girls–stuck together in herds. It was rare to see a teen alone, especially in an apocalyptic situation. If he found even one teen, they’d lead him to a whole cluster, hopefully. He’d have to be careful. Scared or rioting teens could turn _anything_ into a weapon. He once saw a girl turn her shoe into a weapon deadly enough to give a full-grown man a black eye and missing tooth, after all. If that wasn’t proof enough girls could be just as deadly opponents as guys, he didn’t know what was.

He jumped as a demon squid-head-monster stomped through a street nearby. Stanley hopped a fence again to keep from being crushed or seen. He winced as a giant foot got too close to crushing him. He kept moving. He couldn’t stop, now. He had to keep searching.

Stanley ducked into an empty house as another eyeball bat made a pass over the street. He nearly closed the door when he saw someone outside. He didn’t recognize this fellow. Still, he couldn’t leave him outside. “Hey!” Stanley hissed as loud as he dared.

The man spun around and saw him. He put a finger to his mouth and looked about the streets. It was all clear. He started to dart across the street when a bat came to his attention. He screamed and attempted to run back. He was caught in the red glare of the bat’s sight. After being turned to stone, he was levitated away by the eyeball bat.

Stanley stared at the place where the man once stood.

 

Stanley couldn’t stay in that house for long. After raiding it for food, which wasn’t much as any good food had been rendered inedible by the wreckage that possessed furniture brought about, he started off again. He found himself walking through a wooded path along the road. The late sun fell over the busted “Dusk-2-Dawn” sign. Stanley hesitated just outside of it. What if Ma and Pa came back? Or, did Stanford put their souls to rest for good? He didn’t feel like facing any more paranormal things, but he also didn’t feel like starving or worse.

Stanley squeezed through the unlocked doors into the chaotic building. Everything was still in shambles. Stanley looked about as he walked. Was there any good food left? He stopped as he stepped on a wrapper. Stanley looked down and lifted his foot. Two yellow dogs smiled up at him from the pink package. The memory of going into a terrifying episode after consuming too much of the candy and then being possessed came into his mind. The brief thought of the candy land being nicer than the nightmare outside made him feel sick. He shuttered and continued.

Stanley picked over the busted shelves and broken packages. Most of the packages had lost their seal. He didn’t touch anything that had been opened. There was still some bottled water that had to be good. Those twinkie things never expired, right? Stanley grabbed as much as he could carry in his pockets and then more in his hands before sitting down outside of a warm refrigerator. Ravenous from lack of food and his long journey, Stanley ate all he could.

Stanley glanced outside. It was getting dark. There wasn’t anything in the way of a bed. In the back room, there were bags and boxes. Stanley curled up in one of the boxes and threw a bag over himself.

 

Stanley woke up the next morning sore and stiff. The bathrooms didn’t work. However, they still had lids so, though they didn’t flush, any stink left behind was trapped. He brought out anything Edible he didn’t find the evening prior and then went outside to eat. The boy downed the rest of his first bottle of water.

For a moment, Stanley thought of staying. After all, there didn’t seem to be any eyeball bats around the abandoned, formerly haunted “Dusk-2-Dawn”. Still, there was no one there. He couldn’t stay there, not when his family needed them.

Stanley spoke into his walkie talkie. “Stanley to Stanford, it’s Day Two. I still haven’t found anyone. I just stayed at the old ‘Dusk-2-Dawn’ for the night. Had twinkies for dinner and breakfast. I wish I could find you. I _will_ find you. I _will_ find Grauntie Mabel and Grunkle Dipper. I’ll find you and we’ll find a way to save everyone. We’ll defeat Bill. I promise.” Stanley let go of the button. There was still no answer.

He put away his walkie talkie, stood up, and stretched. He traveled back into town. Stanley kept another two water bottles snuggly hidden in a bag he’d picked up.

 

Stanley’s gaze flicked about the sky as he walked. As he walked, Stanley got hungry again. He became tired. Stanley took a swig of the water bottle he carried. As he wandered aimlessly around the town, Stanley had to duck behind broken buildings and hide under overhangs. Bats often came very close to snatching him. Each time they got near, Stanley would shut his eyes and pray to not be found. He’d wince as the strangled scream of a terrified person would mark the eyeball bat’s new quarry being petrified. The horrible guilt of wishing someone else would be found instead of him gnawed at Stanley.

 

Stanley was hungry. He hadn’t eaten anything save for a half dozen twinkies all day. It was noon. Water helped, but not by much. He found himself digging through a dumpster near a restaurant. He wrinkled his nose at the stench of rotting food. Still, there had to be some recently discarded items that weren’t rotten. He did find some… though he was too scared to eat it right away. He had to sneak in and rob the place of food inside before he could bring himself to eat whatever was in _there_. Unfortunately, a lot of what was inside of the restaurants was refrigerable foods that had gone warm or ingredients that needed cooking from an electricity deprived stove.

He caught himself looking over a beaver that had gotten into the restaurant and was now chewing on the tables. Revolted, Stanley went back to scavenging. Eventually, Stanley ate the thawed vegetables in the freezer and warm fruits in the fridge and cupboard.

Unsatisfied but no longer hurting, he left the restaurant and into the harsh reality outside. Stanley’s back started to hurt as he was forced into tight places and positions to avoid capture.

 

Eventually, hunger that night forced him into a position he never dreamed he’d be in. Stanley pounced on a beaver that had gotten into Greasey’s Diner and strangled it. It squeaked and thrashed and slapped him with his tail. Eventually, the critter’s struggles stopped. Stanley, panting from the work it took to catch and kill the creature, dragged it to the kitchen. Stanley grabbed a knife from the kitchen.

Stanley took a deep breath, clutched the knife with more strength, and plunged it into the creature’s neck, just below his chin. Stanley knew how to _bake_ , but he didn’t know how to cook a critter. It was probably the same as cooking a chicken, though, right? He just needed to throw the ingredients into a pan and cook it until it was good enough to eat? He ended up making a fire out of the splinters and disjointed wood the beaver had chewed out of the diner and cooked it in a pot of water until the meat fell off the bones.

If anything came from the end of Weirdmaggedon, Stanley would be glad to never kill, cook, eat, or otherwise mess with a beaver ever again. Still, for the first time in days, he was full and content–almost to the point where his stomach hurt.

Stanley made the windowless backroom of the diner their bed for the night. He heard raccoons scrambling about the diner as they ate the rest of the beaver.

 

In a discarded TV amongst the wreckage, News Reporter Shandra Jimenez spoke. “We are Day Three in this strange cataclysmic event, which some are calling ‘Weirdmageddon’ or the ‘Oddpocalypse’. Weather today calls for black clouds, blood rain, and frequent showers of eyeball bats turning people into stone. I’m Shandra Jimenez, and I ate a rat for dinner.”

Stanley hid under a few bags of trash. He didn’t even flinch at the screams pizza-shirt-guy made as an eyeball bat turned him to stone. Stanley looked about and darted to an alley. An eyeball bat immediately turned and flew in his direction. Stanley scrambled over the fence. The eyeball bat quickly abandoned his search in favor of a new trail. Graffiti ran rampant throughout the town, most of them being crossed out triangles or eyes or end of the world messages or cries for help. Stanley ignored them.

Stanley clutched the walkie talkie. “Ford, it’s me. I’ve been able to elude capture so far, but I haven’t been able to find you or Dipper anywhere. Wherever you are, whatever happens, I _will_ find you though, okay? I’m going to find you and I’m going to find everyone and we’re all going to defeat Bill. Together.” He put away his walkie talkie and looked around. “I’ve been searching for days. Where are they?”

He turned to look into the street on the other side of the alleyway. He gasped as a pterodactyl screeched and snatched the ‘A’ from the Gravity Mall’s sign. “The mall,” Stanley breathed. “That’s where they are! I know it!” He slunk forward. A giant head with an arm dragged itself through the street. Stanley ducked under a trashcan until it passed. Then, he darted across the street. He hit the mall doors with a hard _thump._ “Oh no!” he hissed and set a hand on the doors. The mall, out of electricity, probably couldn’t handle opening or closing its own doors.

“Hey!”

Stanley turned to look at the head with an arm.

“Hey, you. Hey, I wanna talk to you.” The head turned himself around with his arm. “I wanna talk to you about going inside my mouth. I think you want to get in here.” He gripped the pavement and moved himself toward the mall. “Hey, you, hey! I’m talkin’ to you, man!” Stanley gasped and struggled to pry open the door to the mall. “You don’t have to make a big deal outta this!” Stanley managed to get it open a crack. He attempted to squeeze through. He was able to get most of his body through, though his ankle got caught in the doors. Stanley’s heart pounded at a million miles an hour. “Hello! HELLO!” The monster slapped the door. Stanley, free, stumbled inside. The monster stuck his arm through the door and patted the ground mere inches away from the boy. “Why are you just ignoring me? That’s seriously Rude to just _ignore_ someone like this.”

Stanley backed away. Once he was a safe distance back, he looked about the broken mall. “Mabel! Stanley!” he called as he walked. Stanley hesitated outside of the food court. A bowl of nachos sat under a flickering light. Stanley abandoned his mission in lieu of finding the first meal of the day. Stanley gulped and walked inside. “At least maybe I can get something to eat.” He took the nachos and then howled as a net tore him off the ground. He screamed. “HELP! The nachos were a trap!”

“Lee?” Dan poked his head out of a plant nearby.

Stanley sucked in his breath. “Dan?! Oh no! You’ve been turned into a tree monster!”

“No, man. It’s just camouflage. My mom made us do apocalypse training instead of Christmas every year. I guess her paranoia paid off.” He stepped out of the potted plant and took off his leafy hat. Like Stanley, his clothes were dirty and had holes in them. A flannel headband wrapped around his head and paint brushed his cheeks to aid in his camouflage. A quiver fell over his shoulders and a crossbow was in his hand. A bat flew overhead. No sooner had it squeaked then Dan shot it down. “Heh. Bat meat.” He took out his ax. “Let me get that for you.” He chucked it. The blade snapped through the net and caused Stanley to fall.

Stanley landed in a stumble and launched himself at Dan. “Oh my gosh, I’m so happy I found you!” He squeezed shut his eyes. “I thought everyone I knew was gone…”

“Hey, hey.” Dan put a hand on Stanley’s head and knelt. “It’s okay. We have each other now. And Thompson Determined, who I accidently thought was a monster.” He jerked his head at the portly man behind himself.

Thompson Determined had a hand on his shoulder, where an arrow sprouted out of it. “This just in:” the tattered reporter wheezed. “–this arrow in my shoulder!”

Dan turned back to Stanley. “We shouldn’t stay out in the open. Come on. I’ll show you our hiding place.” He stood up and took Stanley by the hand. Any other time, Stanley would let go and grumble about not being a child. But having someone bigger and older than him leading him somewhere safe after days of surviving on his own in the apocalypse dismissed any negative thoughts.

 

Dan led them to the “Edgy on Purpose” store. The shutters, which had the words “DUDE KEEP OUT” spray-painted green, were closed. Dan lifted them just high enough for them to slip in. An eyeball bat flew past them.

Stanley grabbed a candy bar as they walked inside. Everything had been pushed to the sides. “FORT CASH MONEY” was spray painted on the far wall. A trash barrel whose contents were on fire were in the middle. Dan held the skewered bat over the flames. “We were playing Truth or Dare in the cemetery when it happened. The eyeballs froze Daryl, Ed, Greg, and Toby.” He pressed a button on the cash register he sat on and patted his forehead with a bill. “Janice almost got away, but stopped to take a selfie.” He let the bill fall. “What about you?”

Stanley’s gaze fell to his lap. “I was in a fight with Stanford when it happened. Grauntie Mabel asked me to be her apprentice once summer was over. But that would mean leaving home–leaving Ford. We wouldn’t grow up together.”

“Oh, man,” Dan breathed.

Stanley sighed. “Ford didn’t take it well. He ran off into the forest. He couldn’t even look me in the eyes. I followed him out in the forest and…” Stanley’s voice shook. He cleared his throat. “And… Bill captured him. He was torn right out of my hands a-and taken away!”

Dan set down the skewered bat. “Come on. Let’s get some fresh air. Thompson: watch the camp for us.”

Thompson Determined drew back the curtain he was behind. He was now donned in spikes, edgy clothes, a thick belt, and now sported a spiked hairstyle. “Don’t call me Thompson. Call me Bodacious T!”

Dan gave him a flat look. “No one is ever going to call you that.”

“Oh.” Thompson lowered his head with a sad groan.

 

Outside, Dan and Stanley sat on an air conditioning unit. Both of them had soda cans in their hands. Outside, the world was chaos. Giant monsters roamed the streets. A floating ear traversed across the landscape. Eyeball bats patrolled the town and forest. Video game characters flew and ran about. A purple monster with arms for tusks wandered the streets. Animated formerly inanimate objects stalked the town and forest. The green, orange-cloud sky set a horrible glow over everything, the purple ‘X’ shaped tear in the sky vomiting nightmares. The center of the show was a giant, burnt brown pyramid floating in the sky, debris scattered around its base like flies around a carcass. Its top part floated above it. Eyeball bats would fly to and from it.

Stanley took a much-needed drink from his soda. Dan sighed. “The end of the world. Those death metal album covers got it shockingly right.”

Stanley looked over the chaos that was once his summer home. “I used to think I could get out of anything, but this?” He hopped off the air conditioning unit and paced. “The scrapbooks are destroyed, Ford is captured, and I can’t find my family anywhere.” He stopped and stared at the Fearamid. Dan got up and stood beside him. “Bill said it himself. There’s no room for heroes out here. We lost.”

Dan, a hard look in his gaze, shook his head. “No, man. It’s _not_ over. You’ve beaten Bill twice before. Why is this time any different?”

“Because I had Ford.”

Dan put his hand on Stanley’s shoulder and made sure that Stanley looked him in the eyes. “Then you need to get Ford back. Look, this summer, I’ve seen some amazing things but _nothing_ as amazing as you and your brother.” Dan let go of him. “I don’t know if it’s dumb luck or yin and yang or whatever, but when you two work together, there’s _nothing_ you two can’t do.” Dan smiled. Stanley smiled back. “You need to make up, team up, and then save the universe!” Dan hit his fists together with a fierce nod.

“But how will I ever find him?” Stanley prompted. They jumped as the purple arm-tooth monster roared, ripped a billboard straight out of the ground, and swallowed it. This cleared the way and gave them a perfect line of sight to the old railroad tracks. Floating before it, chained and anchored to the ruined ground below, was a light red bubble. Fissures and cracks like stained glass covered the ball. But one symbol was clearly shown: A Six-Fingered Hand. “Stanford’s hands! He’s in there, I know it!”

“Whoa! Is that like twin ESP?” Dan chuckled.

Stanley shook his head. “No, we don’t have that. But we do have this thing where our allergies act up at the same time.” Stanley sneezed. Thankfully, though Dan smiled, he didn’t comment on how kitten-like he sounded. “Ford needs us. But how are we going to get out there without being caught?” Stanley looked over the city of eyeball bats. In the distance, a minefield of madness bubbles floated over the rough ground.

“I think I have an idea.” Dan looked down at the Abandoned auto-mart. Multiple broken vehicles lay in its waste, though they could see a few whose windows hadn’t been crushed and tires broken.

 

In the Fearamid, music blared, lights blazed, and demons of all shades of power and type partied. Many held red cups full of glowing green juice. A cluster of demons chanted, “Spin the person! Spin the person!” as “Growling” Grenda, as a statue, was spun like a bottle. She ended up stopping so that her head was pointed at the space between Pyronica and Hectogoron. Hectogoron, the floating red hexagon, gasped and attempted to fly away. The pink fiery demon with long, curly horns, Pyronica, snapped her tongue like a frog to catch him and then swallowed him whole.

Bill, eye shut, and arms crossed behind his head, floated on a plateau near the head of the place. “ **HAHA! GO NUTS, GUYS! WHEN WE’RE DONE PARTYING, I UNVEIL PHASE TWO!** ”

At the far end of the room, they could hear heavy knocking. Lolph announced, “Open up! This is the police. Time Police.”

Everyone stopped and, eyes wide and most mouths gaping, turned to Bill, who was no longer relaxed. Bill waved his hands in a calming manner. “ **JUST PLAY IT COOL, DITCH THE TIME PUNCH.** ” Paci-fire ran off with a cup of green juice. “ **LET ME DO THE TALKING.** ”

The wall exploded to show a triangle-shaped doorway of sorts. Time Baby, a whole line of time police flocking him, floated above the rubble.

Lolph, the front-most officer, stated, “Bill Cipher. You are in violation of the rules of space time and possessing the body of a time officer.”

Blendin, who stood right next to him, snapped, “My body is a temple! How dare you!”

Time Baby announced, “Hear this, Cipher.”

Bill Cipher rolled his eye and put his hands on his sides. “ **UGH. _TIME BABY_.** ”

Time Baby put his hands on his head. The hourglass on his head glowed and projected a hologram of the universe with a line through it. “If your rip in this dimension continues,” the hologram exploded. “–it could destroy the very fabric of existence.” The hologram fizzled away, and Time Baby lowered his pudgy hands. “Surrender now or face my tantrum.”

“ **OH NO, A TANTRUM,** ” Bill Cipher sighed and waved his hands in a melodramatic manner. “ **WHAT EVER WILL I DO ABOUT THAT– _HOW ’BOUT THIS?! BOOM!_** ” He pointed his finger at Time Baby. It sparked and glowed in red light before turning into a laser. The crowd was vaporized. Bill Cipher’s eye turned into a mouth, blew the smoke off his finger, and then returned to its normal shape. He leaned back and stared at the scene ahead with a wide eye.

The gathered demons gasped. At first, none could speak. Then, Kryptos put a hand to the top of his steely gray diamond body. “Ah, snap! He just killed Time Baby!” He looked about. Then, the demons cheered and danced in their approval.

Blendin hid behind a pillar. “Aw, man. This has gone from bad to worse.” He fiddled with his wrist device. “I gotta get out of time-dodge.” He vanished in a spark of blue light.

8-Ball, the chained goblin taller than the Space Shack, lumbered over to Bill, a pair of walking dentures beside him. He looked up at Bill, though with his weird wall-eyed 8-ball eyes, it was difficult to tell where he was looking. “Boss, the Pine-Tree human got away before we could eat him. Are you worried he might try to cause some trouble?”

Teeth, his higher voice a sharp contrast to 8-Ball’s deep, slow voice, piped up, “Yeah! Trouble with Stanford’s bubble?”

Bill laughed. “ **HA! I’M NOT WORRIED. I’VE GOT SOMEONE ON THE CASE.** ”

 

Dan, Stanley, and Thompson looked over the cracked picket fence to the auto-mart. Dan, who wielded a pair of binoculars, lowered the instrument. “The abandoned auto-mart. Free cars ripe for the hot-wiring.” Dan jumped the fence, leading the others to follow. “We just found our ride to Ford.” Stanley glanced back at graffiti on the wall, which red “GIDEON STINKS” in white, though pink spray-paint crossed out the second word and replaced it with “is awesome”.

They ran through the parking lot of destruction. Dan looked about. “We’ll need something fast, but good over rough terrain.”

Stanley’s gaze fell over the broken cars. “I can’t believe that this place is just… abandoned.”

Thompson stopped by a particularly wrecked car that still had an air freshener. “Oh! An air freshener!” Thompson gasped and then reached for it. A yellow dart with a pink tufted tail struck him in the side of the head. Thompson fell forward and then jumped up, chest puffed out and arms raised at his sides. “Ahh! It’s gunna take more than one dart to keep me from–” Another nine darts struck him in different parts of the head. Thompson promptly collapsed.

Dan gasped, “Thompson!”

They winced as bright headlights glared at them. A couple more pairs of headlights blazed and sent them further into a blinding spotlight. Stanley puffed out his chest and tried his best to make himself look big in the face of three monster trucks.

A gangly, wiry-haired prisoner leaned on the roofless windshield of his car and sneered, his voice oddly high-pitched, “Well, well, looks like we got ourselves a pair of ground walkers!”

The second prisoner, this time in a greenish brown truck, leaned out of his window and cackled, “Yeah! Ground walkers! Heheh! Ain’t got no wheels!”

“Listen, Discount Auto Warriors!” Dan announced.

Stanley continued, “We have no fight with you! We’re trying to get to the bubble out east!”

A loud, deep voice boomed, “Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong! Hands where I can see ’em!” They turned to see the center monster truck, red and flashy with all types of illegal modifications. A large, muscular man sat atop it like a throne and pointed at them. Dan and Stanford raised their hands in submission. “Y’all fellers ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

“Y’all?” Dan echoed.

“Fellers?” Stanford agreed. He squinted at the very bright headlights. He couldn’t distinguish the figure, but he knew how he spoke. “Gideon?”

“That’s _Sheriff_ Gideon!” The megaphone was lowered. Lights sparked and glowed over Gideon, who was standing by a very large, muscular man. Gideon’s outfit had… changed. White and blue, it was a cowboy’s attire with gold feathering on the arms and legs. His curled hat glowed like the moon. “Under the authority of Bill Cipher, I place you two under arrest!” His gaze fell to Dan. “Oh! Hey, Dan. Have we formally met?”

The headlights dimmed to nonexistence. A good dozen prisoners, all wearing spiked armor and many wielding makeshift spears, hopped out of the trucks and guided Dan and Stanley around to the back of the biggest truck. Gideon stood on a crate in the trunk of the truck. Ghost-Eyes, the man whom held him, stood just outside of the vehicle. Two prisoners behind them shoved Dan and Stanley so that they fell forward. They could only get up to their knees before spears were pointed at the back of their necks. They both glared up at Gideon.

Gideon whooped, “Wooooo-we! Look at what the ’pocalypse dragged in! Y’all are in a twelve-piece bucket of deep fried trouble, now! Ghost-Eyes! Spitoon!” Ghost-Eyes held up a fancy spittoon, which Gideon spat out his gum into.

Stanford scoffed, “Ugh. Gideon.”

“He’s gotten folksier,” Dan commented.

Gideon, his smug expression never wavering, put his hands on his hips. “Ma’ old pal Bill figured you might try to rescue Stanford. So, he appointed me,” Gideon pointed to himself, “–master of these wastelands, and–,” he put a hand on his neck and gestured to the red, chained bubble in the east. “–keeper of the bubble! Stanford is trapped inside,” He turned back to them and pulled out a golden key bearing the symbol of a six-fingered hand on its handle. “-and I have the only key! Wrapped around my…” He looked down. “Well, I wouldn’t call it a neck, really, just wrapped around this little pocket a fat under ma head?”

Stanford bristled. “You have no right to keep him there, Gideon!”

Gideon smirked, still holding the key. “Bill explained it to me nice and simple: Mabel was always destined to be with me.” He let go of the key, which fell over his chest, and took out a very faded newspaper clipping of him and Mabel some time decades ago. “And now that I have _him_ in a cage, she’ll learn to like me! She’ll have to if she wants Stanford free. With time stopped, I have an eternity to wait!” Gideon put away the piece of paper. Stanley’s glare deepened. Oh, how we wanted to ring that fat gopher’s neck. “Ghost-Eyes! Ready to escort our friends to Bill’s dungeon?”

Ghost-Eyes plucked Stanley off the ground by the nape of his shirt and tore Dan to his feet by the back of his neck. As he was unable to hold up the lumberjack’s son, he kept a firm grip on the back of his shirt. Stanley yelled and held onto Ghost-Eye’s hand. “No! Hey!”

Dan glared back at Gideon. “This won’t work, Gideon.”

Gideon chortled, “Oh? And why’s that?”

“’Cause after I break Ghost-Eye’s arm and steal that key from around your neck, I’m gunna wear your hide on my foot like a steel-toed boot!”

The other prisoners laughed. Gideon snickered, “O-ho! What makes you think you can do all that?”

Dan snarled, “’Cause I’m a flippin’ _Corduroy!_ ” He took Ghost-Eye’s arm in his hands and flipped himself over. Ghost-Eyes roared in pain and dropped them both. Stanley knelt in front of Ghost-Eyes as soon as Dan let go to trip him.

“Ghost-Eyes! My hench-angel!” Gideon gasped. Dan hopped onto the car, tore Gideon back by his collar and ripped the key out from around his neck. Stanford stopped by Dan as Dan jumped off the truck, Gideon still in his grasp. Though the man was bigger and heavier than the lumberjack’s son, he couldn’t break free from his grasp.

The prisoners attempted to approach them, but Dan held Gideon out as if he was presenting a first-place wrestling trophy. “Get back! Get back or I _swear_ I’ll snap his fat neck!” The prisoners halted and held out their hands to stop anyone else from moving forward. Dan ran around to an armored and spiked black and white car with anti-Bill graffiti. He smashed open the passenger’s side window with his elbow and unlocked it.

Gideon glared back at him. “You’ll never get away with this, ya hear me?!”

Dan opened the door and looked at him. “Well guess what? We already _did!_ ” He took Gideon by the shoulders and kicked him into the crowd of prisoners. Ghost-Eyes stumbled back and knocked over a few prisoners. Those still on their feet stared at them in absolute shock.

Dan squirmed into the driver’s seat through the passenger’s side and hotwired the car. Stanley shut and locked the door and put his seatbelt on. Stanley watched Dan mess with the wires in the car. “Dan, you’re the coolest person I know.”

“Tell me about it later.” Dan threw a smug smirk at him and put on his seatbelt. The car started with a snarl and raced off. Spikes bristled out of the sides of the tires and gleamed on the metal plating of the car.

Gideon screamed, “After them!” The prisoners scrambled to get into their vehicles, ranging in size from monster trucks to small, decked out two-doors down to a motorbike. Ghost-Eyes ran with Gideon to their heavily modified and armored monster truck, which came with a cow catcher in the front like a train. Ghost-Eyes started the engine with a roar. Gideon turned on his megaphone. “We are not letting ’em get to Stanford! Auto-Mart Warriors, roll out!” The trucks and cars screeched into the road and tore after the stolen black-and-white car.

Stanley looked down at the key he held. “Okay, all we need to do is outrace Gideon’s henchmen, unlock the bubble, save Stanford, and then save the world.”

“Arm!” Dan cried and swerved as a beefy hand from the arm-head monster swiped at them. Their pursuers managed to avoid him, too–all but one unfortunate soul who was promptly eaten.

“Swerve, swerve!” Gideon cried. “I can’t let ’em free Stanford!”

Ghost-Eyes evaded the monster. “Remind me why you’re keeping your girlfriend’s great nephew in a prison bubble again? Have we, the prisoners, become the wardens?”

“It’s only for a little while,” Gideon countered. “Now quit the philosophy.”

“Sorry, it was my major.”

Ahead of them, the cars broke through city limits, only to find themselves face-to-face with a broken wasteland of multicolored, tie-dye bubbles. “Ha!” Gideon laughed. “Weirdness bubbles blockin’ the path! Whooooo-we! We got ’em now!”

Stanley gasped. “Oh no! Move around the bubble field!”

“No can-do! Hold on! We’re goin’ through!” Dan announced, his grip on the steering wheel tightening.

“Wh-what’s even in there?!”

“I dunno!”

They screamed as they charge head-first into an aquamarine bubble swirling with a soapy rainbow sheen.

Then, everything was different.

Within the car, the two boys’ heads had been replaced by finch heads. Stanley whistled and chirped. _“For some reason, I really want worms.”_

 _“Eat worms!”_ Dan whistled. _“Fly south! Nest!”_

The car broke through the bubble and charged across the wasteland. Stanley coughed up a few feathers. “That was _horrible!_ ”

“Brace yourself! Here comes another!” Dan warned. The car burst through three more colorful, giant bubbles.

First, their appearances changed to a cartoony, almost anime-style. They screamed. The second bubble turned them all into meat products. The third changed them into very oddly detailed versions of themselves.

Stanley looked down at himself and gasped. “Ah! I have so many details! Dan, I’m a monster!”

Dan looked at himself in the rear-view mirror and shrugged. “I don’t know, man, I look good.” They came to the end and screamed as the car burst out into the wasteland again. Stanley looked back in the rearview mirror. The other cars were having their troubles bursting through bubbles and skidding on the ground.

Ghost-Eyes’ truck became level with Dan’s. The bigger, meaner truck turned and slammed its body into Dan’s. Dan barked in surprise as his side of the car crumpled and the window shattered, sending glass shards flying over him.

Stanley gasped and pointed ahead at a ravine. “We’re almost there! We just need to make that jump!”

Dan set his gaze and glared ahead. “Total lack of formal training, don’t fail me now!” He grabbed the clutch, raised both feet, and slammed them into the accelerator. He swerved as Ghost-Eye’s truck turned and attempted to slam into them. Ghost-Eye’s truck swerved and slowed as it changed direction, which allowed Dan to pull ahead.

The car, screeching under the strain and pressure, flew off the side of the ravine, which was turned up like a ramp. They screamed as the car flew up and then came crashing down. It’s armored pieces, the spikes being the greatest ones, refused to dent. The car rolled end-over-end and flipped as it skidded across the other side of the ravine. The car crumpled like a tin can.

By the time the car had groaned to a stop, Dan was laying semi-conscious over the driver’s wheel. Stanley pushed open his door and fell out into the dirt in a heap of torn clothes and bruised flesh and bones. Stanley turned his hazy gaze to the giant red bubble phasing into the train tracks. _Stanford._ Stanley heaved himself up onto his elbows and crawled toward the bubble. “Almost… there…” he wheezed. “Hold on…!”

Stanley stopped as a shadow fell over him. He looked up. A maroon cloak stood above him. The hood was so far low that he could see the “Blind Eye” symbol on the hood’s front. Behind him was a black, three-headed mastiff. Its red eyes glowed but it stayed still. The figure pulled up his hood and offered his hand. “Hey, Lee.”

“Fidds!” Stanley gasped and took his hand.

Dan, bruised and cut, heaved himself out of the car. “Fiddleford? You’re alive!”

Fiddleford puffed out his chest and grinned. “Handyman of the apocalypse at your service!”

“Fidds, where’d you–? How’d you–?” Stanley stuttered.

Fiddleford ran around to Dan’s side and helped him up. “After ma dad was taken, it was just me an’ Ivan against all these monsters. I’ve been lookin’ for you guys, but after the first day, I packed my stuff and came here. I’ve been helpin’ people all the while. I really did try to look for you, but it’s so dangerous. Ivan’s my priority, now.” He looked over Dan’s bruised left arm. “Well, there’s some good news: your arm isn’t broken.”

“The bad news?” Stanley prompted.

“We’re surrounded.”

All around them, the remaining prisoners and their vehicles stopped in a circle. “Wooo-we!” Gideon yelled as he stood on the front of the truck. “I dare say y’all almost had the jump on me there, for a second. But this ain’t your Gravity Falls anymore!” He clapped his hands. “Out here, I win.” Someone threw a conch at him. Gideon took a deep breath and blew on it as hard as he could. “Bill’s henchbats will be here any minute. Stanford’s mine now!”

They turned to see the Fearamid grow blurry as a cloud of bats burst out of it like a halo.

Stanley looked down at the key clutched in his hand. He closed his fingers around the key and looked up. “Is he?”

Gideon nodded. “Well, yeah. I have him trapped, ergo, Stanford is _mine!_ ”

“Gideon, listen to me.” Stanley took a few steps forward. Dan’s legs shook, and he collapsed beside the car. Fiddleford put a hand on the fallen survivor’s left shoulder. Something glinted in his right hand in his sleeve. “You can’t make someone like you, no matter how much you try. The best you can do is be someone worthy of admiring.”

“I’m worthy of lovin’!” Gideon countered. “These prisoners love me!” The prisoners around him cheered.

“But Mabel doesn’t,” Stanford stated. “Because you’re selfish. _But!_ You can change! Bill thinks that there are no heroes in this world. But if we work together and fight back, we can defeat him!” The prisoners slowly nodded. Stanley pointed to the Fearamid. “You wanna be Mabel’s hero? Stand up to Bill! Let us save Ford!”

“That’s crazy!” Gideon burst out. “You know what Bill’d do to me if that happens?!”

Ghost-Eyes turned to Gideon. “What, you scared of Bill?”

Gideon’s voice gained a slightly higher pitch. “No! I just… It’s a complicated situation.”

Stanley put a hand on his own chest. “Look inside yourself, Gideon.” He waved his hands to indicate the broken world around them. “If all this is for Mabel,” Stanley held up the key. “–then ask yourself what Mabel would want you to do.”

Gideon turned around and took out a newspaper clipping from inside of his hair. He and Mabel laughed, running side-by-side. Mabel held up an arm to combat the glare of a photographer. He stared down at the picture. His fingers slowly curled together. Gideon turned his head. His voice was hardly above a squeaky whisper. “Stanley. Will you tell her what I did?”

Stanley nodded. “Of course.”

Gideon turned around and squared his shoulders. The paper crumpled in his grasp. “I hope you’re right about this.” He raised his voice and put away the picture. He pointed to the cloud of bats. “Guys, new plan: Bill’s minions are gunna be on us in seconds!” He curled his hands into fists and lowered them to his side. “But I’m not gunna let that dumb triangle be the warden a’ me!” Gideon opened one hand and slammed his fist into it. His signature devilish grin reappeared. “Are y’all ready for a good ol’ fashion prison brawl?”

Ghost-Eyes gripped a chain in both hands and snapped it so that it was taut. “We’re behind you for life, brother!”

“Fighting children is boring,” another prisoner agreed, “–but fighting a chaos god sounds fun!”

Gideon yelled and raised his fist, “Let’s do this!” They cheered and jumped into their vehicles. “HENCHMEN, ROLLOUT!” The prisoners cheered and whooped as they raced to the eye-bats.

Fiddleford sighed and released whatever he’d been holding in his right hand. “Oh, good. I thought we were gunna have ta fight.”

Stanford grinned and then looked at the machine behind him. “So, what is that?”

Fiddleford glanced at the dog. “Oh, Biscuit’s just a bully-eating robot Ah built as a Christmas present ta myself. We can ride her up ta the bubble. Hey, Ivan!”

A hatch on the back of the dog opened. Ivan popped out, his bright eyes Looking over his brother and the injured party. “Hey!”

 

The four boys now stood on the railroad tracks in front of Stanford’s bubble. A giant triangle-shaped lock amidst the chains faced them. Stanley gripped the key with more strength. “Remember: this is a prison bubble designed by Bill. We’ve got to prepare ourselves for what we find in here.” What if it’s like the madness bubbles? Spending a few seconds in one was bad enough but three days? _I hope Ford’s alright._ Stanley pushed away negative thoughts tagged to the overwhelming fear in his theories.

“Whatever we do, we do together! For Stanford!” Fiddleford held is hand out in the middle of them.

Dan put his hand on his. “For Stanford!”

Ivan set his hand on Dan’s. “For Stanford!”

Stanford put his hand on Ivan’s. “For Stanford!” With that, Stanley took a few steps forward and plunged the golden key into its socket. With a turn of his wrist, he let go of the key. Metal clinked against metal. The chains shuttered and then fell away. The scarlet, stained-glass bubble with the six-fingered hand symbol staining its front now stood open to them. Stanley took Fiddleford and Dan’s hands. Then, they stepped inside.

 

FHGC NECQ RKKYT! TF’S VAVNEK-TYICVP MNF XYE HARNH ZS PZDKRX!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cause and effect will affect everyone, as they say. And the worst part is: it was totally preventable! Egh, it’s all downhill from here, I’d expect. Still, those Pines are tough, they’re brave. Any of them can fight anything! Really, they’re hardy and brave and stick together like unicorn glue. At least, for most anything. Truly, what’s the saddest thing is how far the mighty have fallen and how high the wicked have climbed. Bill, the sonovagun… I’ve always hated him. Anytime, now, he can go shove off. Still, I highly doubt he will. Heh, knowing him his own world could be ending and he’d stick to it. Very like him to persist when he really shouldn’t. I’m missing the point, though, aren’t I? Gideon is reforming along with his best prison friends. Everyone’s starting to work together. Now, their biggest challenge lies in the big bubble to the East. Eh, here’s to Stanley’s hope! Rallying cry to all who follow. Everything will turn out just fine.
> 
>  
> 
> _"For countless years I've roamed the Soul Cairn in unintended service to the Ideal Masters. Before this, I roamed the skies above Tamriel. I desire to return there. ... The Ideal Masters assured me that my powers would be unmatched, that I could raise legions of the undead. In return, I was to serve them as a Keeper until the death of the one who calls herself [vampire]."_  
>  "Didn't they tell you she was immortal?"  
> "I discovered too late that the Ideal Masters favor deception over honor and had no intention of releasing me from my binding." ~Durnehviir and Dovahkiin, Skyrim: Dawnguard DLC
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> 6: _Eejr Itsu sz oy Ksfs Iyuhjut mvj Spty Uiyn Qjs Ner Tddwfm Nuildvl Qh Yjr Rbp’s Qts Ner Tddwfm._


	17. Weirdmaggedon Part Two: Escape From Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ehlqj d khur phdq **v** **i** ljkwlqj edfn hyhq zkhq lw vhhpv lpsrvvleoh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find the Title Card on dA:

Partially hidden by bloody clouds, the creeping sun hardly did anything to the ruined landscape. The golden clouds above seemed to have a mystic glow of their own. The green, white-speckled sky behind the golden clouds shimmered like a plankton-choked pool reflecting the universe. The giant psychedelic “X” tear in the sky sent a pink-purple glow over the burnt amber pyramid that hovered in the sky.

Ruined and covered in haunting shadows and bleeding light, the ground below held creatures and nightmares that prowled the streets. A land once riddled with birdsong and traffic shrieked with the voices of the damned and boomed with the roars of otherworldly beings. Formerly inanimate objects crawled and Slunk over the broken ground. A mailbox opened and lashed a frog tongue at a squirrel nearby. The critter hardly made a squeak before being swallowed by the mailbox.

Over the chaos, Farmer Sprott called, “End times are here, folks.” Over his natural farmer’s attire, two pieces of carboard tied together by string were thrown over his shoulders to cover his body from shoulder to ankle on his front and back. A box with a red circle and line through it sketched on the cardboard. Gripped in his hands was a cardboard, upside down triangle on a stick boldly stating “THE END IS NIGH”. His eye twitched. “Only way to salvation is to embrace the triangular ways of our overlord. Any object with more than three sides is sinful.

“Mmm?” He looked over his shoulder at “Tough Girl” Wendy. In the process, his tin-foil, cone hat shifted and glinted. “Tough Girl” Wendy cut out a stop sign so that it was a red triangle. “That’s it. That’s probably what Bill wants.” An Eye-Bat swooped down and froze “Tough Girl” Wendy. “I reckon I’ve been livin’ a lie.” He screamed as another turned him to stone and flew off.

 

In the Fearamid, the party was still in full swing. Bill held Mabel–a golden statue with her arms up and hands by her head and mouth open in silent scream–in one hand and a fork in the other. He tapped Mabel’s golden arm, causing a ring to pass over the crowd. The interdimensional demons and nightmares stopped and looked up at their host. “ **LADIES, GENTLEMEN, THAT CREATURE WITH, LIKE, EIGHTY-SEVEN DIFFERENT FACES.** ”

Suddenly, a flying amalgamation of faces and heads barked, “Eighty- _eight_ different faces!”

Eye rolling around to look away, Bill held up a hand. “ **WHOA-HO, SORRY–TOUCHY SUBJECT. ANYWAYS, IT’S BEEN FUN TURNING GRAVITY FALLS INSIDE OUT, ROUNDING UP ALL ITS TERRIFIED CITIZENS, AND THEN STACKING THEM INTO THIS MASSIVE THRONE OF FROZEN HUMAN AGONY.** ” He waved his fork and then gestured to the giant throne of stone figures. An Eye-Bat stuck Sprott in an indention in the side of the throne. Bill discarded his fork, set Mabel down, and plopped down onto his throne. “ **DON’T WORRY, THEY’RE NOT CONSCIOUS ANYMORE. PROBABLY.** ”

Somewhere near his head, “Growling” Grenda’s head fell forward as she unfroze. She muttered, her words slurred as if in a dream. “Uh, my head. Wha… wha…?”

“ **AH,** **WHOOPS! HEHE, BACK, BACK YOU GO THERE.** ” Bill pushed her back into place. She turned to stone. He turned back to the massive group. “ **BUT GRAVITY FALLS IS JUST THE BEGINNING. IT’S TIME TO TAKE OUR CHAOS _WORLDWIDE!_** ” He hopped up and threw his arms in the air. His eye expanded until it took up most of his yellow body, turned red, and showed a white outline of the spinning earth and its continents with a few speckled stars. He blinked, turning his eye back into an eye, and floated up until he nearly touched the ceiling. He snapped his fingers and summoned a portal to the outside of the Fearamid. “ **ALRIGHT, BOYS, TO THE CORNERS OF THE EARTH. SET THE WORLD AFLAME WITH YOUR WEIRDNESS! THIS DIMENSION IS _OURS!_** ” The demons flew out of the Fearamid and Into the sky. Bill sighed. “ **AH GLOBAL DOMINATION. I COULD GET USED TO-** ” The demons hit an invisible barrier. Ripples flew over the sky as if they’d touched a pond. The monsters dropped like flies.

Readily bristling as his plans didn’t go off as smoothly as planned, Bill spun around. “ ** _WHAT?!_** ” He flew up and tapped the barrier. Ripples went through the sky. Outside, the world was fine. Birds sang, animals bounded about. Fluffy white clouds scooted through the atmosphere. The sun glowed over the summer, perfectly ordinary landscape. An orange, green, and pink bubble of chaos enveloped the territory Gravity Falls was in.

Eye narrowing, Bill crossed his arms behind himself. “ **HMM… THIS MIGHT BE MORE COMPLICATED THAN I THOUGHT.** ”

“Mrrr…” Paci-fire groaned, “I think I broke something.”

At once, Bill glared back at him. “ **WALK IT OFF!** ”

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

Dan, Stanley, Fiddleford, and Ivan stepped through the white void. Stanley broke the suffocating silence. “Okay. So, we just need to find Ford and get out of here. Simple. We just, uh… need to find him first.”

“Eh-huh. Where would he be?” Fiddleford agreed. “We don’t know how far this place goes. It could go on forever!”

“This place can’t go on forever,” Dan denied with a short shake of his head. “I don’t think even Bill has that power.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t doubt him, dude.” Stanley glanced at Dan. “He captured Ford and destroyed the whole entire town and made that weird X thingy in the sky!”

“But… True, true,” Dan agreed. “Still, he has to have some limitations. Maybe if we call–whoa, whoa!” Dan’s foot sunk into the ground and he stepped back. Microfractures spread out through the ground under them where Dan’s foot sunk into the white ground. White shards defected and fell into the weird brown, black, and blue place beneath them.

Every one of them screamed and tried to back off, but it was too late. The floor shattered. White fragments slipped past them and glittered around them like the trail of sparkles left by a shooting star. As they scraped past him, Stanley couldn’t feel their edges.

Barely able to breathe, Stanley huffed as Dan hooked an arm around them and brought them in for a tight hug. “Wherever we’re going, we’re going together!” Dan announced as they fell.

Right when they thought the blue-green mass below spelled death– _kur-sploooooosh!_

Only, Stanley stopped breathing as air was torn away from him. He immediately flipped himself over so that the remaining air in his lungs pushed against his chest rather than his back, his head faced up to the light and soggy feet toward gravity, and burst through the surface of the water. Stanley coughed up salt water and looked about. Fiddleford, wheezing and coughing, was on the surface. Ivan struggled in the water, clinging onto Fiddleford, who tried his best to keep both of them afloat.

Kicking himself to the surface, Dan coughed. “Where are we?”

“Erm–the ocean?” Stanley guessed. He looked in the direction of the waves. “Shore! Come on!”

Now, Dan was the slowest of them. Stanley managed to get out first. He tried to aid Dan, but the teen waved him off. “I’m fine,” he stated, his voice was tight. “Salt’s not good on the wounds, though.” He rolled up his soaked sleeves so that the salt-water-sodden clothes were not pressed up against the scrapes on his arms.

Stanley looked around. “Where are we?”

“A library?” Fiddleford guessed, cocking his head to the side. Before them was a maze of bookshelves like from the movies where you needed a ladder to get up. The sky was a miX of stars and space swirls of gases. The ocean expanded behind them. Somewhere in the distance were houses.

Dan looked over the maze. “How’re we going to find him?”

Stanley shifted his weight and put a finger on his chin. “Hmm… Ford really concentrates on what he’s doing and hates it when I make too much noise while he’s reading. If we make enough noise, he’ll come out and scold us!” He snapped his fingers and walked into the maze. Stanley cupped his hands by his mouth. “FORD! FORD, WHERE ARE YOU?”

“O-or!” Fiddleford ran to his side. “Or we can jus’ look for ’im an’ _not_ make him mad at us.”

Stanley waved his hand. “Pssh. Whatever. He’ll get over it. FORD! HEY, WHERE ARE YOU?”

After the third time Stanley called his name, he got an answer. “Stanley?” Stanford peeked out from behind one of the shelves. He rolled his eyes and got into better view. “What the heck?”

“Ford! See? Found him!” Stanley grinned.

Stanford nodded and crossed his arms. “Yeah. You did. What do you want?”

Stanley’s smile fell a bit. “Heh. What are you talking about, dude? We, uh, we came here to rescue you.”

“Rescue me?” Stanford echoed.

“Yeah!” Stanley stepped forward so that he was in front of Stanford. “We came from all the way across the wasteland to find you! We fought off monsters and traveled for days and fought off Gideon and–”

“Stanley!” Stanford interrupted. Stanley stopped talking. “Look, as much as I… _appreciate_ you coming to find me, I’m perfectly fine.” Stanford smiled.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m _saying:_ this is my home now,” Stanford answered. “And I don’t _want_ to be saved.”

“You did _what?_ ”

Stanford sighed. “Okay, look. I know you probably won’t understand but, after that alien attack and you guys said I had to go back to our backwater school after the summer alone, I was pretty upset. I mean, Gravity Falls could give me _way_ more than anything New Jersey could ever dream of offering. Then I woke up here–in a place that gives me exactly what I wanted: a whole new place to learn everything I could ever want to and explore whatever I want!” Stanford indicated the library around them. “This place has books not only from around the world _but from outside of our world!_ Alien artifacts and literature and all types of things lost to human and alien history both. I know it’s all genuine, too. He wouldn’t lie, he knows everything. The best part is: I don’t have to answer to anyone! There’s no one here to tell me I’m wrong or I can’t do something.”

Stanley shook his head. “Okay, look, Ford. We aren’t here to read books or whatever. All of this is nuts!”

Stanford rolled his eyes. “I figured _you’d_ say that. You don’t have an appreciation for the paranormal like I do. Stanley this place is all I’ve ever wanted. A place with a whole multiverse of knowledge to explore and no one that will, or can, take it away from me.” He hesitated. “And, this place does whatever you want and always provides. Like…” Stanford clapped his hands. Light sparkled around Dan, Stanley, Fiddleford, and Ivan and suddenly… they were better. Dan’s and Stanley’s wounds vanished, the water was sucked from all of their clothes, and Fiddleford’s electronics turned on again.

Dan piped up, “Look, Ford, I agree with your brother. This is crazy. You can’t just spend your entire life here.”

Stanford looked up at him. “And why not? I already know what _you_ want. You don’t want to be here just as much as Stanley. That’s Fine. Because, honestly, I’d rather be alone.” With that, he turned and walked back down the space he’d just been in. “There’s a food place on the beach.”

Fiddleford ran around to the beginning of the hallway. “Ford! Wait! What about us? Mr. Pines, Ms. Pines, Stanley, me?”

Stanford looked back at him. He didn’t answer for the longest time. “Like I said: it would be better for all of you to just go back.”

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

The rip in the sky vomited a rainbow of colors over the floating pyramid. The demons who’d attempted to escape gathered in the throne room, each one bearing the weight of injury from their great fall. Bill floated circles in front of the throne, hands behind his back and eye glaring daggers at the floor. As he spoke, storm clouds hissed and swirled above him. “ **ALRIGHT. CAN ANYONE EXPLAIN TO ME WHY, EVEN WITH OUR NEWFOUND _INFINITE POWER–_** ” The demons gasped and scattered as Bill’s fury caused the thunderclouds to burst and lightning to snap to all corners of the room. Bill threw his fists down. “ **–NONE OF US CAN ESCAPE THE BORDERS OF THIS _STUPID HICK TOWN?!_** ” He plopped down on his throne, seething and crossing his legs. He glared at the golden statue beside him. “ **THERE’S SOME KIND OF FORCE FIELD KEEPING US IN, BUT WHO WOULD KNOW HOW TO FIX IT?** ” He picked up the golden statue of Mabel and calmed a bit. “ **HMM. MAYBE SOMEONE NEEDS TO COME OUT OF RETIREMENT.** ” His eye flashed in a whole series of various pages from Mabel’s scrapbooks.

“Bill!” The tentative cry caused Bill to turn away from the statue and look at Keyhole, who stood at the seat of the throne. Even as he spoke, he flinched at his own words. “Uh, sorry, Boss, but Gideon let the Pines family escape! They’re inside Stanford’s Bubble as we speak!”

Bill set the Mabel statue down and laughed. Keyhole didn’t look any less stressed. Bill turned and floated up to a triangular hole in the wall acting as a window to the red bubble in the railroad tracks. “ **BUDDY, STANFORD’S BUBBLE IS THE MOST DIABOLICAL TRAP I’VE EVER CREATED. IT WOULD TAKE A WILL OF TITANIUM NOT TO GIVE INTO ITS TEMPTATION. FETCH ME GIDEON AND TAKE THE REST OF THE DAY OFF. THINGS JUST GOT A LITTLE MORE INTERESTING.** ”

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

Stanley sat on the docks, glowering at the water that sloshed below him. Fiddleford had run off to talk with Stanford, but everyone knew that was going nowhere. Dan slunk off to find someplace to get food. “I’ll bring something back for you,” he’d said. Now, Stanley sat cross-legged near the end of the pier, staring at the waves as they sloshed and beat against the salt-worn supports, and listening to the cries of the sea-side birds.

He mumbled to the slashing water, “You smell the same as the ocean back home. The wood’s the same. The beach is the same. There’s even some broken glass.” He looked up. “But there aren’t any boats.” _Save for the small, lonely boat on the dock with their names slopped across the side of it._ “No one’s here! Ford’s completely Isolated himself and I can’t do anything about it!” Stanley growled and punched the wood under him. “All because of that stupid fight! If we wouldn’t have fought, he wouldn’t be here.” Stanley shut his eyes. “I wish we were more like Grauntie Mabel and Grunkle Dipper. They never fight. Where’s Dad when you need him?”

_Thump, thump, thump, thump._

Stanley perked up and turned his head. Standing on the pier, halfway to Stanley, was their father. The sunlight caught his glasses and hid his eyes. His suit was perfect and straight. He could’ve just walked out from behind the counter to tell the kids to come downstairs. “Dad?”

“What are you doing here?”

Stanley huffed and looked forward. “Being away from Ford because he doesn’t want me anymore.”

“You really screwed up.”

“I know.” Stanley hunched his shoulders.

_Thump, thump, thump, thump._

“Your brother’s being stubborn.”

“But I’m supposed to be the stubborn one,” Stanley whined.

“Don’t whine at me,” Filbrick scoffed. “Now get up. We’re going home.”

“Home?” Stanley looked up at him.

“Yes. You’ve got some catching up to do.”

“Catching up?”

“Do you know why I sent you away this summer?”

Stanley shook his head. “No. No, Grunkle Dipper didn’t tell me, either. Why?”

“I sent you to that hick town so you’d grow up and learn what happens to people who don’t fight their battles.”

“Grunkle Dipper’s a great guy!”

“My uncle is a coward. Unlike you.”

Stanley’s indignance left him. “R-really? You really think so?”

“Boy, if I thought you were hopeless, I wouldn’t have signed you up for boxing lessons and I wouldn’t have sent you to Gravity Falls,” Filbrick scoffed. “Now come on. We’re going home.” He held out his hand, a small smile tugging at the edge of his lips. “Take my hand, son.”

Stanley started to reach for him, then hesitated. “W-wait. Wait, you’re not Dad! You’re not real!” He jumped to his feet and backed away. The sky darkened, and the waves snarled. Filbrick’s eyes glowed orange. His skin writhed and darkened and turned into millions of little bugs. His body and clothes dissolved as the bugs spread out until finally, he was gone.

“You shouldn’t have done that Stanley!” cried a seagull. Stanley whipped around. A whole flock of seagulls stood behind him. Their eyes were gold with slit pupils. The one in front of him opened his beak. “We’re watching you.”

The flock squawked in unison, _“There are eyes everywhere._ ”

The pier shuttered as something hit it. Stanley shook his head. When Stanley rubbed his eyes and looked back, the birds had lost their devilish flare and now scattered back into the light blue sky. Stanley backed off, his eyes darting around. “Oh my gosh. This is crazy. I-I’m losing my mind. We have to get out of here. We have to go back.” Stanley stopped as his shoes displaced sand. “To the _real world!_ ” The silent place echoed as the word “world” bounced off every surface and resounded into the sky. The birds shrieked and fled as if Stanley had just shot at them with a gun.

Stanley wheezed as he was tackled to the sandy ground. “Hey!”

The firm hands of a security guard held him down. Smoke whisked about the man’s ankles before solidifying. Smoke took the shape of another security guard standing above him.  “Under Article Five of Exhibit Seven, you are hereby accused of breaking our one rule: mentioning _reality._ ” Dan, Fiddleford, Ivan, and Stanford now joined them on the beach.

The guard holding Stanley down growled, “Prepare to be banished from this land forever!” A portal to the red and maroon doom world appeared just before them.

Stanley struggled and yelled, “Ford! You’re way smarter than this! Bill tricked you! Are you really gunna let them _banish_ me?”

Stanford shook his head. “No, of course not! Stanley’s my brother, there has to be another way to settle this.”

The guard holding Stanley down Nodded. “Very well. If Stanley wishes to stay, he must plead his case in the ultimate trial of _isolation_ vs. _community._ ”

 

The courtroom was situated within the small town that bordered the book maze. Dan, Fiddleford, and Ivan were the only three in the stands. Stanford and Stanley sat at the front. Guards stood by the door. Stanley glared at his brother. “You’re seriously taking this to court?”

Stanford scoffed, “I didn’t make the rules here.”

“Yeah you did!”

The security guard at the front of the courtroom announced, “All rise for the honorable Judge Becket.” The people within the room stood. A door in the front opened to reveal a man dressed up as a judge from Colonial America as he sat down at his desk. He picked up his hammer and tapped it against the wood. “Order! Order! This trial begins right now!” He cleared his throat. “We are here to try Stanley Pines in the case of  _Isolation versus Community._ ” He gestured to each brother in turn. “If Stanley wins, Stanford will return with him to the real world!” Stanford turned away from Stanley. “But, if he loses, he will be banished forever!”

Stanley sighed. “This is nuts. But if winning this trial is what it takes to get you to come home, then so be it.”

Stanford stated, “I’m sorry, Stanley, but I can only talk through my legal team, now.”

The door in the back opened. Two lawyers walk side-by-side to the front. The judge nodded. “Let’s hear opening statements.”

The left lawyer, a brunette with haunting teal eyes, stated, “Your honor, townsfolk.”

The right lawyer, a blonde with dark eyes stated, “My case is simple: this selfish young man thinks that people are better than staying alone. But people can be–” Indy took out a stick and pointed to a blackboard beside him. “Cruel, distasteful, and lame.” All three words appeared on the board each time he tapped it and stated the word.

Stanley scoffed and raised his hand. “Judge! They can’t say that!”

Stanford muttered, “Conjecture, Stanley.”

“Yeah, Conjecture!” Stanley agreed. Stanford rolled his eyes.

“Overruled,” the judge said with a lazy wave of his hand.

“I’d like to show you these ‘people’ that Stanley loves so much, and show you how it’s wronged my client, and Stanley, their entire lives.” The brunette lawyer, Johna, pulled out a red notebook with a six-fingered hand traced on it. “Exhibit A. Stanford’s journal. January 15th, fifth grade.”

 

_They were back in school. This time they–rather, Stanford–was in the hallway. A few books were in his arms and he walked with a sense of pride and excitement. No one was there, not even Stanley. A clock on the wall informed them of the after-school activities beginning._

_A few kids bigger than him appeared in the hallway behind him. They’d been talking until they spotted Stanford. The lead one snickered and snuck up behind him. Stanford stumbled and stopped. His shoe became untied as he stepped on the shoelace. The blond kid grabbed him by the back of his jacket, causing him to drop the books on his own feet. “Hey, whatcha doin’ here? I thought they’d kicked the circus out of town already.”_

_Stanford squirmed in his grasp. “Let me go!”_

_The eighth G_ _rader’s friends caught up to him. The red-haired one prompted, “Where’s your dumb brother?”_

_“Did he finally smart-up and leave you?” the brunette one jeered._

_Stanford, teary-eyed, cried, “Let me go!”_

_After a few more snide jeers, which caused Stanford to sniffle and whimper, they seemed to get bored of words. The blond one wrote something on his head hard enough to give the boy a headache and threw him in the closet and locked the door with a nearby chair. Stanford banged on the door and jerked the door handle, but no one was in the hallway anymore._

 

Indy stated, “Stanford just wanted to have a good day studying at home, but _they_ had other plans.”

Stanley growled, “That was just Crampelter! He’s a stupid bully, he doesn’t count.”

“One of many,” Johna cut in. He flipped a few pages. “October 8th, second grade.”

 

_Stanley and Stanford sat in a few chairs in the front. Stanford sat giddily in his seat, watching the teacher. Stanley played with an action figure and a paperclip he’d snuck into school, idly waiting for his turn. On the blackboard, a whole list of names were on the board. Currently, Stanford had five marks by his name. Most people had one or two–all but Stanley and some other kid who had zero. Everyone got a candy for each mark they had._

_“Stanley,” the teacher called for his attention. Stanford elbowed him, and he looked up at the teacher, hiding his toys under his desk. “Your turn! Now, how do you spell airplane?”_

_Stanley thought for a moment. “Uh… a-i-r-p-l…a…i-n?”_

_The teacher shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. Stanford?”_

_Stanford, caught up in the competition, answered instantly, “A-i-r-p-l-a-n-e!”_

_“Very good!” the teacher purred and put another mark by his name._

_A few people behind Stanley snickered. “He’s such an idiot.”_

_“Can’t even spell things right.”_

_“His freak brother’s smarter than him.”_

_“Dude, everyone’s smarter than him.”_

_A redness came to Stanley’s cheeks and he hunched his shoulders and turned his watery eyes on his lap. The bell rang and, with Stanford getting a plastic gold medal, the class was let out. Stanley, sniffling, grabbed his bag and stalked into the bathroom._

_“Stanley!” Stanford called after him._

 

They were back in the courtroom.

Stanley shook his head. “Hey, come on! What’s the point? That was in the past!”

 “Is your life any better now?” Johna flipped over the book to show its pages, which changed from scene to scene. “Betrayal–” The first scene was when they’d discovered the Blind Eye. Stanley, Stanford, and Dan were tied up while Fiddleford pointed the memory gun at them. “–Disaster–” The next was of Grunkle Dipper being held onto the hood of a police car while Stanley and Stanford were dragged away. “–Broken promises.”  The last scene was of their bedroom, when Stanford and Stanley fought. Johna shut the book. “That’s reality for you.”

Indy nodded. “Out there, it’s nothing but heartbreak. But here, it’s paradise!”

Judge Becket said, “Well, I think we’re ready for a verdict.”

“Wait!” Stanley Exclaimed. “I haven’t even presented _my_ case!”

“Do you even _have_ a case?”

Stanley glanced at his brother, who had gained a smug look about him, and then the judge. He got up and stalked to the front of the room while Indy and Johna backed off. “Yes, I do, your honor. I call as a witness: Stanford Pines!” The others in the room gasped.

Stanford’s eyes grew round, and he sat up straight. “Objection?”

The judge raised an eyebrow. “Hmm… I’ll allow it.”

Stanford got up and sat in the chair at the front of the room. Stanley sighed. “Okay, look. I might not have all the answers. I’m not cool or super smart or able to do everything ever with a snap of my fingers.” He snapped his fingers. “And, yeah people can be mean and can do stupid stuff. There are bullies and people who think they know things better than you and people who keep secrets. Yeah, we’ve gotten mixed up in a whole bunch of stuff and maybe even got to where you couldn’t trust anyone anymore. Sure, bad things happen, and people disappoint or hurt you. That’s, like, a part of life.”

Stanford cocked his head. “Stanley? Are you pleading my case for me?”

Stanley went on, “But that’s not everyone, Ford. There’re plenty of awesome people out there and even though people can be dumb, you have friends that’ll stick with you forever! You’re my best friend, dude–my brother! And I do know one thing well–and that’s you. I know that even though you might act like it, you don’t want to be here in this dumb fantasy world by yourself.”

Stanford scoffed and crossed his arms. “Yeah, right.”

“I know so. And you’re scared of leaving. And, I can’t blame you. I kinda am, too.”

Stanford gained a nervous grimace and looked about the room.

Stanley went on, “Okay, look. Life stinks sometimes. But there’s a better way to get through it than denial. That’s with help from people who care about you.” He grabbed the journal from the table. “It’s how  _we’ve_  gone through our whole lives. Look.”

 

_The scene changed to the bathroom in October. Stanley was holed up in the last stall, the door locked, and he was sitting up on the toilet so his feet weren’t on the floor. A small bag of candy and a medal on a string slid under the door. Stanley blinked and picked up the items. “#1 SPELLER” was on the medal. “SPELLER” had been crossed out in marker and replaced with “Brother”._

 

Present Stanford relaxed and stared at the book.

 

_The scene changed back to the hallway. Stanley, hands in his pockets, walked down the hallway. “Sixer? You here? You–huh?” He discovered the fallen books and the chair pushed up against the door. He opened it, causing Stanford to gasp and fall out, a few brooms and mops landing on him in the process. He looked up and rubbed his eyes. “FREAK” had been written across his forehead and his jacket was ruffled._

_Stanley tore off a section of his shirt, wet it in a water fountain nearby, and rubbed off Stanford’s forehead. Stanley gave him an encouraging smile. Stanford wiped his eyes and hugged him, a tiny smile appearing on his features, too._

 

They were in the courtroom again. Stanley went on, “We’ve always been there for each other.” He held up the journal. Images changed. The first was of them in their bedroom after the video game character had come to life and attacked them. Stanford wrapped up Stanley’s hand in the last bandage he needed and offered him a stash of toffee peanuts from under his bed. The next was of the three of them in their room, Stanley sleepily sitting in their bed and Stanford and Fiddleford hugging, the memory gun laying forgotten on the nightstand. The third was when Stanley sat by Stanford’s bed, Reading aloud one of Stanford’s books while Stanford, injured after being possessed by Bill, lay in his bed.

Stanley set down the book and walked up to the chair Stanford was in. “I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future, but whatever it is, we’ll do it together. We’ve traveled to heck and back to get you and we’re goin’ back together.”

The crowd–including guards–muttered amongst themselves.

The judge slammed his hammer on the table. “Order! Order! Order in the court!”

Stanford looked at his hands. “Wouldn’t you just be better off on your own? Don’t you hate being called a dumber, sweatier version of me?”

“Yeah that kinda hurts,” Stanley admitted. “But come on, who cares what they say? I love you, bro. Let’s leave this fantasy world and beat Bill and grow up together.”

Stanford hopped out of the chair and stood in front of Stanley. “You really mean it?” Stanford asked, his eyes round and hopeful. “Even though people compare you to me all the time, you’ll stay with me?”

“Definitely,” Stanley stated. He held up his hand. “High six?”

The crowd exploded in loud complaints and desperate calls. Fiddleford jumped and Dan bristled.

Johna shook his head. “Don’t do it!”

Judge Becket stated, “You do this and it’s all over!”

“High six.” Stanford agreed and slapped his hand against Stanford’s

A ripple burst from the impact and swept through the court, blasting the judge’s white wig off and pushing over a bench.

Stanford rubbed his eyes. “Oh wow… what came over me?” Behind them, the judge yelled in distress. Stanford turned to him. “Oh, time to calm you down.” He clapped his hands. “Um? Why isn’t this working?”

The judge slammed his hands on the table and leaned forward, his words a hiss. “Because your reign over this land is _over!_ ” His body split, and skin fell away to reveal a writhing pile of bugs. Everyone else in the courtroom, save for Dan, Fiddleford, and Ivan, turned gray and their eyes glowed red.

“Ah! We gotta get out of here!” Stanley hissed.

Stanford nodded and ran. “Come on! Dan, Fiddle, Ivan! We’re leaving!”

As the group ran, the ground beneath faded from brown to gray. Books withered, and wood creaked. Bookshelves toppled, sending an innumerable number of books to the ground. As their feet hit sand, Stanford pointed ahead. “Everyone, on!”

They raced over the pier and jumped into the only boat on the docks. Its wooden hull had the words “Stan o’ War” slopped over it. The mast snapped open. The pier collapsed in on itself, sending the boat lurching forward. Stanford held onto the wheel. “Okay, guys, are you ready for this?” He grabbed a harpoon from the deck, leaving Stanley to take the wheel. They approached the psychedelic scarlet edge of the bubble at a troubling speed. “Sorry, Fordland, but it’s time to burst your _bubble!_ ” He hopped onto the front of the boat and threw the harpoon. The edge of the bubble tore and then split. The boat fell forward over a waterfall, sending all five flying. They tumbled onto the grass in a shower of shredded book pages.

As they sat up, they found themselves wearing the same clothes as before they entered the bubble. They bore the same wounds as well. Stanford looked over Fiddleford, whose dark hood fell over his face. Stanford looked at the Blind Eye symbol. “Fiddleford? What’s this?”

Fiddleford pulled the hood back and smiled. “Oh, nothing. The Society isn’t around anymore. I haven’t been erasing people’s memories. It just makes me look better than my normal clothes.”

Stanford stood up and helped Stanley to his feet. “You know, I appreciate what you said, Stanley. But… wherever you go, I’ll support you.”

Stanley grinned and laughed. “Yeah, bro!” He hooked his arm around Stanford’s shoulders and drew him near. “Wherever we go, we go together!”

Dan Set his hand on Stanford’s shoulder. “We’ve missed you, man.”

Fiddleford hugged him. “I’m just glad your safe!”

Stanford grinned. “You, too! Oh, man… I did go crazy back there. But, I mean, come on. The real world can’t be _that_ bad, could it?” He stepped forward and looked over the wasteland. Waddles roared in the distance. The Fearamid floated about the ruined landscape. “Oh.”

 

The kids wandered through the streets. A choked silence had fallen over the broken city. Stanford looked about, still dazed from the sudden, epic change of scenery. “Where _is_ everyone?”

Dan looked down a dust-ridden street. “The town’s deserted.”

Fiddleford’s eyebrows furrowed. He clutched his remote with more strength. The robot dog he controlled stalked the streets beside him. “Did Bill win?”

“Is he still here?” Ivan prompted, eyes darting from shadow to shadow.

Stanley’s gaze fell over a broken sign whimpering at them to visit the Space Shack. “Come on. Let’s hide out at the Shack for a little while.”

 

Dan, the children behind him, peeked through a bush lining the forest around the Space Shack. From here, they got a good view of the backdoor. Stanford grinned. “Yes! It’s in shambles!”

Stanley nodded fervently. “Just like we left it!”

Dan let out a sigh of relief as they ran to the old building. “God, this is the first time I’ve actually been happy going to work!”

“Hello, house!” Stanley exclaimed, hands in the air. He hopped onto the couch. “Hello, couch!”

Stanford reached for the doorknob. He hesitated. Something scrambled within. Something else coughed. Stanford recoiled and took a few steps back. “What was that?” He looked about and put a finger to his mouth. He pulled out his crossbow. Stanley hopped beside him and took a golf club off the ground. Dan pulled out his ax. Fiddleford took a step back, pushing Ivan behind him. Biscuit walked around him, all three heads down and all three heads baring metal teeth.

“Let’s get ’em,” Stanley growled, his face twisted in a cocky smirk.

Stanford nodded and kicked open the door. They rushed to the doorway with threatening shouts.

The entire house seemed to move and everything within roared back, weapons at ready, all eyes glaring at the new intruders.

Stanley and Stanford lowered their weapons. “Dipper?”

Grunkle Dipper’s bat faced the ground. “Kids?”

The multi-bear popped out of the bathroom next to the door. “Just so everyone knows, we’re out of toilet paper.” His eyes flicked between the two forces. “Did I miss something?”

 

ZMV, RZ. AUFVD EKEJZB IEDW TIZP.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Could this be a time where Stanford begins to learn his lesson? A truly terrible trap that unfortunately shaped a lot of what happened in the show. Eh, I cant’ blame him, though, since I’m the Lord of the Solitude Corner. So, the pot calls the kettle black. At least Stanley was able to help him out of it. Right? Also, with “intelligence is subjective” on the mind, maybe we can possibly see history (or future??) changed? To be honest, all I want to do is make the Pines happy. Because, you know, they deserve it! All of them, even ~~Noble McHero~~ Stanford (I guess). So, anyway, Weirdmaggedon! How’ve you been, haven’t seen you in a while, oh buddy, oh pall! Very sorry, we were mixed up in Bill malarkey. I mean, I guess they’re kinda screwed but, being back together again, I’m sure they’ll prevail! Goodness, I almost forgot. Ey, you see Filbrick there? Now I’m really going for the whole “he’s a jerk, but he’s still their dad” sort of thing. Eh, I tried. Really, I tried. End game, though, we’re looking at the end game so let’s get back to it!
> 
>  
> 
> 14, 10: _Ocuelgnx Cmz Hinp fd oy Cmfymg, Favjwl Trm Hurcj kp se Fluz, ppa Kcoya qz Dydqa pc su Zickkprmq._


	18. Weirdmaggedon Part Three: Take Back the Falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Khduweuhdn. Glvdvwhu. Eu **r** nhq Surplvhv. Wkdw’v Uhdolwb ir **u brx.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find the Title Card on dA:
> 
> Minor swearing/torture warning!

The faint sunlight, haunting and dire, dribbled in through the black and red clouds. Morning, noon, or evening, the colors of the sky didn’t change, and the intensity of the sun’s rays didn’t waver. So, the Space Shack, like the rest of Gravity Falls, was plunged into some eternal twilight, some half-way point between dark and light, death and life, corrupt and clean that was neither one nor the other.

Right at the door, Dan, Stanley, Stanford, and Fiddleford stood, shouting their presence to intimidate their foes. Meanwhile, the entirety of the remainders of Gravity Falls huddled in the Sanctity of the Shack and roared back.

Unused to hearing _human_ resistance by now, Stanford stopped and breathed, “Wait.”

Then, Stanley and Stanford dropped their weapons. “Grunkle Dipper!”

Hesitation lost, Grunkle Dipper dropped his bat in an instant and knelt, arms wide, “Kids!” The two launched themselves at him, wrapping their arms around him and squeezing as if the second they let go he’d be gone. Tears glimmered on their cheeks. Grunkle Dipper, fighting off tears himself, laughed, “I can’t believe it! I thought I _lost_ you two!”

Suddenly, Fiddleford pounced on Grunkle Dipper, the biggest grin on his features. “Mr. Pines! It’s really you!”

At once, Dan pounced on him, nearly knocking them all over. “We missed you, you old badger!”

Readily willing to greet the others, Grunkle Dipper chuckled and included Fiddleford, Ivan, and Dan in for their family hug. Grunkle Dipper finally let go and stood up. “I’ve missed you hooligans, too. It’s great to see you all again!”

Entranced by the sudden safety they all felt, they hardly spotted Candy hobbling out from deeper in the Shack. “Grandma!” Fiddleford yelled and pounced. Ivan, laughing, joined him.

Meanwhile, Stanford looked about. “So… what’s everyone doing here?” He sucked in his breath as two lilliputtians ran past his feet.

“Eh-huh. Yeah.” Stanley nodded. “They’re monsters an’ gnomes an’… is Preston wearing a potato sack?”

Now Preston glowered at him. His clothes had been switched with a stitched-up sack. “Hey! Even in this sack, I look better than you.”

The Multi-bear stood at the stairs. One head gnawed on his own hand. “It’s… it’s a long story.”

The vents beside him held the wax head of Larry King. He complained, “Hey, is anyone gonna feed me? Larry King's disembodied wax head wants num-nums!”

On the other side of the vent, Susan glared at the wax head. “We’re trying to ration our food, remember?” Wax Larry grabbed the end of her frayed ponytail and chewed on it. Her eyes went wide. “It’s happening again!”

Barely an effort was needed for the Multi-bear to shut the vent, freeing the girl and her hair.

Eventually, Pituitaur, bandages around his hand, looked through the door. The injured manotaur turned around and pointed out the door. “Hey, everyone! Eye-bat!”

Looks of relief and excitement gone, the monsters and people in the Shack gasped. Most pinned themselves to the ground, shivering in terror. Others went to work. One gnome shouted, “Evasive maneuvers!”

Immediately, Grunkle Dipper slammed shut the door. “Shh! Get down!” he hissed and pushed Stanley and Stanford’s heads down, ducking as well.

Extracting a pen from somewhere to wave like a conductor, another gnome ordered, “Hit the lights!” Susan jumped off the stairs, where Multi-bear caught her and ran off into the house. The gnome who yelled last blew out a lantern.

Startlingly quickly, the house became very still, quiet, and dark.

The eye-bat that had been attracted flew over to the house. It’s bright red beam flowed over the old shack. A raccoon chattered and darted across the lawn. The eye-bat snatched the critter and flew off. It passed up a wooden sign with a picture of Bill, crossed out by red paint, pinned to a tree.

Grunkle Dipper lit a match and tossed it into a trash barrel. It went up in flames and illuminated the cluttered ballroom. Most of it was covered in ruined cloth of any measure. Some cloths hung off poles to separate places. A large section of the ballroom Had been turned into an infirmary while another was piled up with beds shoved haphazardly together. “Welcome to what’s left of normal,” Grunkle Dipper announced with a sad wave of his hand. “Home base.”

Around them, people whimpered in pain or sadness or fear. Celestebellabethabel, crippled as half of her body was turned to stone, lay beside a mostly paralyzed gnome. Her other unicorn friends were nowhere in sight. The man who married a woodpecker stroked the stone feathers of his wife as she’d been turned to stone on his shoulder. A few gnomes huddled around a candle in what looked like a makeshift cupcake made of canned meat next to their stone friend.

On the couch, Thompson lay across the cushions, one foot propped up. A gnome held his gloved hand and stroked the back of it while another gnome plucked darts out of his face. The man would whimper and tense each time a heavily imbedded dart would get pulled. Tyler curled up in himself in front of a lantern by the couch, staring down at his feet. Priscilla sat beside him, and Jessy huddled on the staircase above.

On a long seat before the trash fire, the entirety of the Sev’ral Timez band, bandaged and cut, sat before the fire. Greggy C. suffered a black eye and an arrow in his shoulder. Leggy P’s head was cocooned in bandages and his shoulder was bruised. Creggy G. was battered and bruised and held a crutch by him. An arrow tore through Deep Chris’ hat and his left arm was in a cast and sling and one eye was bruised. Chubby Z’s left foot was in a cast. All of them were bruised and dirty. None of them wore shoes. They all held hollow eyes on the brink of snapping.

Greggy C started, “We have…”

The whole band held out their arms on either side in presentation. “Several injuries!” They hissed and coiled into themselves, each holding onto or covering their respective injuries.

Chubby Z groaned, “My liver, boy!”

Stanley turned around and gasped, “Giffany McLightning?”

“Do not be afraid,” .Giffany soothed. “Weirdmageddon has taught me there are some battles I cannot win.” She bowed her head. Beside her, a flashing red and blue “-50 DESPAIR” appeared.

Stanford looked up at his great uncle. “Grunkle Dipper, how did this happen?”

Grunkle Dipper walked through the house, overflowing with injured, scared, and defeated people. “I was hammering signs out back when you ran off. After you ran off to find your brother, Mabel picked up her scrapbooks and ran straight into town. I had no choice but to follow. Bill… well, Mabel gave me her scrapbooks and told me to go secure the Shack. The books didn’t survive.” Grunkle Dipper winced and inadvertently put a hand on his shoulder. “When I came back, things were already a mess, as I expected. What I _didn’t_ expect was what to happen next. This weirdness wave passed right over us. That totem pole came to life and tried to attack the Shack, but it ran into some weird forcefield and collapsed. Turns out, whatever you and my sister did to the Shack, works.”

Stanford nearly laughed. “Of course! The protection spell! _That’s_ why this is the only place Bill’s magic can’t touch.”

Grunkle Dipper nodded and gestured to Candy, who was sitting in a chair with her repaired laptop. “That’s when Candy comes in, bringing a bunch of injured stragglers through the forest. They needed a place to stay and, since the mayor got captured, I elected myself de facto chief. The plan is to stay here until we run Out of food.”

Stanley shook his head. “Grunkle Dipper, we can’t all just hide in the Shack! There’s a world in need of saving! I-I tried to prevent it and Mabel went off to stop him, but Bill captured us.”

Grunkle Dipper’s soft expression turned sullen. “Yeah. I know. I _saw_ it. I… ran away from it.” He wandered over to a wooden lounge chair in front of the TV and sat down. “Kid… look, we have everything we need right here. It’s not a fairyland, but you’ve got what you need and everyone’s healing up here.”

Stanford stopped beside him. “Are you really going to let Bill win?”

“Listen, Kid,” Grunkle Dipper sighed and looked him straight in the eyes. “If that monster took my sister, then none of us have a hope in the world to stand up to him. I spent thirty years trying to bring her back from Bill’s damn doomsday device, and that was without him interfering. Now we’re separated _again_ and there’s nothing we can do.” He shut his eyes. “Besides, The Space Shack isn’t the _only_ place in Gravity Falls someone could hide in. I’m sure that everyone else is doing just fine.” He set his hand down on the couch, ending his unconvincing speech. The TV turned on as the remote activated it.

The monsters and people gathered around were flooded in light. Shandra Jimenez, one side of her head shaved, stood behind a pillar in the Fearamid. “CHAIR-ABELE FATE” was written in gold on a red ribbon near the bottom of the screen. The camera switched between Eight-Ball and Hectogoron behind the pillar to Bill’s throne on the other side. “This is Shandra Jimenez reporting live from inside of Bill’s castle. Here, for the first time, are images of what’s happened to the captured townsfolk.” The camera zoomed in and shot in detail the people turned to stone and fit together in a throne like some sick toy-brick chair. “Viewers are advised to look away if they don’t want to see their friends turned into a throne of frozen human agony.”

Preston stared at the TV with round eyes. “Moms?”

Dan sucked in a sharp breath of air. “My family!”

Sherriff Nate cried, “Deputy Lee!”

Shandra Jimenez continued, “Is there no one who will save the people of this town?” Above her, an eye-bat discovered her and her small crew. She stared straight into the camera, even as she was being turned to stone. “I’m Shandra Jimenez and I’m being turned into stone by a flying eyeball.”

The TV turned to static.

The gathered people gasped. Preston drew into himself. “My moms were good people. They don’t deserve this!”

Sherriff Nate sank to his knees. “Curse you, Bill! Why must you take everything we love?”

Stanley set his gaze and stamped his foot. _Enough was enough._ He climbed on top of Multi-bear before the can fire. “Guys!” The gathered people and monsters, horror and grief tearing new holes into their spirits, looked up at Stanley. “Don’t you see? Our friends and family need us, but only if we fight back!” He lowered his hand and helped Stanford up.

Stanford stood on top of the Multi-bear, still holding his brother’s hand. “Stanley’s right. Bill _wants_ us to run and hide. He wants us to think that he’s invincible–but he’s not! Mabel told me that she knows Bill’s secret weakness!”

The gathered people gasped and started to mutter amongst themselves. Grunkle Dipper stared up at them, struggling between denial and the hope that had started to flare within him. Stanford, bolstered by his fellow citizens, smiled. “Now, if we band together, if we combine all our strength–” Chutzpar stared up at him, his depressed gaze hardening. .Giffany McLightning pounded her fist into her hand. “–Our smarts–” Fiddleford smiled and looked up at Candy, who gave a tired, hopeless smile in return. “–our… whatever Thompson has…”

Thompson sat up. “Various rashes!”

Stanford continued, “…then we just might be able to rescue Mabel, learn Bill’s weakness, and save Gravity Falls!” The gathered people cheered.

Grunkle Dipper stood up. “Haven’t you forgotten? We’re only safe inside the Shack! We step foot outside, Bill will crush us!”

“Wait!” Candy cried before despair could once again take them. She chattered on in a broken sentence in Korean before she shook herself. “Sorry, sorry. What I meant to say was: I think I figured out a way to fight Bill and rescue Mabel! But, we will all have to work together.” A gnome hopped up and put her round glasses on her face. She waved her arms, giving them the opportunity to huddle together to hear her plan.

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

Within the Fearamid, Mabel’s statue stood within a small, lavishly decorated room. Suddenly, she was transformed from gold back into a living, breathing person. “Let go of me, you insane three-sided–!” she snapped and then stopped. She looked about. “Wha… huh? What is this place?” Mabel started to walk into the homely, rich place when chains clattered. She looked down. A glowing blue cuff was around one ankle and it jingled the chains connected to it.

A piano started to play as Mabel tugged at the chain that imprisoned her. “ ** _WE’LL MEET AGAIN…_**

_“ **DON’T KNOW WHERE…**_

_“ **DON’T KNOW WHEN…**_

_“ **OH, WE’LL MEET AGAIN SOME SUNNY DA-AY~!**_ ” Bill sang as he and a piano rose from the floor on the opposite side of the room.

Mabel’s gaze concentrated on Bill. “Wh-where am I?”

Bill turned in his seat to face her. “ **YOU’RE IN THE PENT-HOUSE SUITE, KID!** ” He held up a wine glass with purple liquid. “ **HAVE A DRINK.** ” He snapped his fingers. A wine glass filled with purple liquid appeared in her outstretched hand. Mabel, glaring at Bill sat down. “ **MAKE YOURSELF COMFORTABLE.** ” Bill closed his eye and drank whatever that purple stuff was through his eye. “ **YOU KNOW THAT COUCH IS MADE FROM LIVING HUMAN SKIN?** ”

Below Mabel, the couch groaned and grew eyes, a nose, and a mouth. Mabel jumped off the patchwork furniture in an instant and dropped the glass. She growled and spun around. Mabel got to the end of her chain, put one hand on her hip, and pointed at Bill. She wasn’t even close enough to knock the drink out of the dream demon’s hand. “Quit the games, Bill! If I’m still alive, it’s because you need something of me.”

“ **AW SHARP AS EVER, MABEL!** ” Bill chuckled and floated around to the end of the room, in front of the painting of himself. He spread out his arms. “ **AS YOU MAY HAVE NOTICED, I’VE RECENTLY HAD A…** ” His voice echoed as he turned around to show off his three-dimensional body. “ **–MULTI-DIMENSIONAL MAKEOVER.** ” He “stood” up straight and lifted his arms. “ **I CONTROL SPACE–** ” Everything in the room floated up. “ **–MATTER–** ” Everything in the room dematerialized and then rematerialized in the opposite side of the room–including Mabel. “ **-AND, NOW THAT THAT DUMB BABY IS GONE, TIME ITSELF!** ” He lowered himself to the ground and snapped his fingers. The furniture returned to their proper positions on the ground. Mabel fell flat on her face with a _huff._

“ **BUT I WASN’T ALWAYS THIS WAY,** ” Bill laminated. He stared at the floor, hard. “ **YOU THINK THOSE CHAINS ARE TIGHT?** ” His pupil turned aquamarine while his eye turned black, fading into dark teal at the bottom. As he spoke, his eye changed into a picture of Saturn, which flipped down to show it was two-dimensional to lay on an aquamarine grid. “ **IMAGINE LIVING IN THE SECOND DIMENSION. FLAT MINDS IN A FLAT WORLD WITH FLAT DREAMS. I LIBERATED MY DIMENSION, MABEL, AND I’M HERE TO LIBERATE YOURS.** ” The flat planet caught fire. Screams echoed through the room as the planet was burned. His blinked his eye. It returned To normal. His wine glass disappeared, and he turned completely to Mabel, who was by now standing. She didn’t wear the chain on her ankle. “ **THERE’S JUST ONE HITCH.** ” His eye turned into a hologram to depict Gravity Falls with a bubble around it. Hologram-Bill struggled against it. “ **AS IT TURNS OUT, MY WEIRDNESS CAN’T ESCAPE THE MAGICAL CONFINES OF THIS TOWN. THERE’S SOMETHING KEEPING ME IN.** ”

“Huh.” Mabel cocked her head. “That weirdness magnetism thingy we’d been talking about…”

“And did you find a way to undo it?” Bill pressured.

 “Well, yes, I-” Mabel stopped himself. “Er, no! I won’t help you!”

Bill, ever patient, held up a hand. “ **LISTEN, MABEL, IF YOU JUST TELL ME THAT EQUATION, OR TELL ME WHERE TO FIND IT, FINALLY YOUR DIMENSION WILL BE FREE.** ” Hologram-Bill burst from the Bubble and expanded until he was as big as Earth. He drew a smiley face into the side of Earth, took a bite out of the planet, and flew out into the rest of the solar system, where his friends wreaked havoc with the other planets. “ **ANYTHING WILL BE POSSIBLE. I’LL REMAKE THIS WORLD–A BETTER WORLD! A PARTY THAT NEVER ENDS WITH A HOST THAT NEVER DIES! NO MORE RESTRICTIONS! NO MORE LAWS! YOU’D BE ONE OF US.** ” The hologram turned to Mabel, ruling over a galaxy. “ **ALL-POWERFUL. GREATER THAN ANYTHING YOU’VE IMAGINED! AND ALL I NEED IS YOUR HELP.** ” The hologram ended, and Bill pointed a finger gun at Mabel.

Mabel still unimpressed, glared right back at him. “You’re insane if you think I’d help you again.”

Bill laughed and sat on the couch. “ **I’M INSANE EITHER WAY! BUT, HAVE IT YOUR WAY. I’LL JUST FISH AROUND AND GET THAT EQUATION DIRECTLY OUT OF YOUR MIND!** ” His body went blank and turned into a stone statue as his spirit hopped out. They were plunged into the mental realm.

Mabel held up a hand. “Not so fast!” Bill fell back into his physical body and returned to their realm. He narrowed his eye and floated up. “You know the rules, Bill. You can haunt my dreams, but you will never be able to enter my mind unless I shake your hand and let you in.” She hesitated, and then grinned. “But, hey. Let me let you in on a secret. I know where you can find it.” Bill leaned forward as well, his eye bright. She spat in his face.

“ **URG! HEY!** ” Bill wiped the spit off his triangular body between his eye and bow tie.

Mabel laughed. “Oh man! You really fell for it!”

Bill sighed. Chains writhed over to Mabel like snakes and struck. One clamped down on each ankle and a third struck from the ceiling, grabbed her by the throat, and yanked her up. Mabel gagged and struggled with her new bonds. The chains jerked, and she lurched forward as the chains forced her to go face-to-face with Bill. The demon stared down at her with a cruel, unmerciful glare. Bill waved a wineglass with a drink in it. “ **EVERYONE HAS A WEAKNESS, TOUGH GIRL! I’LL MAKE YOU TALK. IT’S ONLY A MATTER OF _TIME._** ”

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

In the Space Shack, Candy laid out blueprints on what was their kitchen table. “Alright, I made some robots in my day, but this Is the first that won’t be used for evil.”

“Whoa!” Stanford looked over the blueprints. “These blueprints are _amazing_ Chiu.”

Stanley grinned. “This is your most amazin’ invention yet!”

Grunkle Dipper stood up. “Welp, if this is what you say, Candy, then… I guess we better get to work.”

“Yeah!” the cheer went up amongst them all.

They went to work.

Every able body in the Space Shack played their part. People went out to the junk yard and fetched scraps–from things like boots held by gnomes to a full car held by Chutzpar, the miniature army raided the junkyard and came back in a flash. Everyone at home worked to cut up, put together, and move around everything. Heavy equipment was brought. Even some of the infirm had jobs that they could do.

Later on, as parts of the robot they were building needed to be tested, they took out the individual parts. Susan, hooked up to a giant arm by an electronic glove, punched the air. A giant arm with a fist larger than her obliterated the tree in front of her. Dan punched the stuffing out of a punching bag with a paper Bill taped to it held by Pituitar.

Many went excavating in the old mines and dug out the T-Rex encased in sap.

The robot was starting to fall into place.

Finally, by the end of the day, everyone was gathered around a campfire just outside of the Space Shack. A flagpole bearing the flag “TAKE BACK THE FALLS” stood upon the house, which was cloaked under a makeshift tarp.

Everyone wore sweaters–from gnomes to the manotaur.

Soos looked down at the gold sweater with a purple tiger head on it. “Thanks for these apocalypse sweaters, dude. The end of the world has never been so comfortable.” Many of the other refugees nodded and hummed in agreement.

Dipper smiled. “Mabel made them, not me. For a special occasion, she’d said.”

Preston sat nearby, shivering in the wind that passed through the makeshift fence around the Shack. Stanley, wearing a red shirt with a pterodactyl on it, raised an eyebrow at him. Preston glared at him and then groaned and rolled his eyes. He made a show of putting on the gold sweater given to him with a brown lama on it and crossing his arms with a huff. “I’ll wear it. But I’m not going to like it.”

Grunkle Dipper stood up and walked around them. “I… think we actually have a chance to beat Bill and win back our future.”

Stanford huffed as he sat down by him and his brother, looking over his own gold sweater with a goat. Gompers hopped up onto his lap and fell asleep. “Yeah. I think being alive to see the end of the summer is the only wish I have.”

“Hey.” Fiddleford piped up and sat up straight. “After all this is over, the whole town’s gonna come together to give you guys the biggest celebration ever!”

“Thanks, Fiddleford.” Stanford smiled.

Fiddleford, bearing a red sweater with a green raccoon, hooked an arm around him in a tight half-hug. “You better believe it!” He lowered his voice and leaned in close. “Because if they don’t, I’ll let you mess with them.” He jabbed his thumb behind him, where Biscuit was “asleep”. Stanford, and reluctantly Stanley, laughed.

 

The sun glowed over the barren wasteland that was once their home.

Candy stood in the attic, near the window at the front of the tarp-covered Space Shack. Everyone gathered in the Shack with her. “Alright, ladies and gentlemen! Let’s hope this turns out better than my other inventions.”

Grunkle Dipper patted his pine tree baseball cap so that his hair was pushed down and then stood by his old friend. “Everyone ready? Ford, now!”

Stanford grabbed a lever in a mess of gears and sank all of his weight into it. The lever pulled down and started off the Shack-turned-machine with a _hiss._ The people and monsters within gasped and stumbled as the Shack rocked back in forth. Outside, the tarps that were pinned down grew taut. Spikes were ripped clean out of the ground. The front wall blazed in light as the entirety of the wall had been turned into a sight scope–a blank red glass wall marked in the middle and sides in white. A steam whistle blew on the side of the Shack.

 

Within some rubble in town, half a dozen people including Poolcheck and Bud sat around a few fires. Bud sighed as he stared into the flames consuming the toys shaped like him. Gideon-bot’s metal foot stomped inches before him. “What in the–?!” Another metal leg ending in a pick-up truck hit the ground yards closer to the Fearamid.

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

“No! _No! Nooo!_ ” Grauntie Mabel howled in pain. A bolt of energy ran from Bill’s eye to Grunkle Mabel. The demons, blood thirsty and eager, watched the torture from around the room. Two chains tethered Grunkle Mabel to the ground by her ankles while two caught her arms and attached her to the ceiling that way.

Bill “stood” back and watched her. “ **READY TO TALK NOW?** ”

Grauntie Mabel, wheezing, raised her head enough to glower at Bill. Her shackles shuttered as she brought his hands a few inches closer to herself. “Suck a dick, Cipher.”

Bill cackled. “ **WHAT DO YOU THINK, PALS? ANOTHER FIVE-HUNDRED VOLTS?** ” The ground shuttered. “ **HEY, DO YOU HEAR THAT?** ”

The entrance Time Baby had blasted shattered as a T-Rex head, very alive, burst through and roared at them. The arm retracted to give them a full view of the Space Shack robot.

“ ** _WHAT?_ I JUST FIXED THAT DOOR!** ” Bill shouted.

The Shacktron came into full view, the sun glinting off its hard metal body. One leg, from the knee down, was borrowed from Gideon-bot. From the knee up, it was a metal pole a bit wider than a manotaur. The other was a conglomeration of the billboards, such as the “Welcome to Gravity Falls” sign, industrial frames, and Soos’ pickup truck as the foot. Both legs connected to the salvaged portal, which Now glowed as its energy was being used to feed the rest of the Shack. Two arms that stuck out the sides were, from the elbows up, metal poles attached to spheres. The left one from the elbow-down was the T-Rex, still encased in amber, and shrunk a bit. The only thing free was its gargantuan head. The right arm ended in a three-fingered claw that could fold into a fist. A robotic Gobblewonker’s neck reared up from behind and snarled, poised like an angry snake. On the porch, holding the flagpole bearing their flag topped by Wax Larry’s head, was Maria. Her eyes glimmering in the light, she stared into the Fearamid with bravery and excitement. “It is the Shacktron, _demonios!_ ”

Wax Larry laughed, “They made the house into a robot. Fascinating!”

Bill sat on his throne. “ **SO, THE MORTALS ARE TRYING TO FIGHT BACK, HUH? ADORABLE!** ” He stood up on his throne and pointed around the room. His voice became serious. “ **HENCH-MANIACS, YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO!** ” He put his hands on his head. His minions grew. “ **TAKE THEM OUT!** ” The demons–Xanthar, Paci-fire, Eight-Ball, Teeth, Kryptos, and Keyhole–hopped out of the pyramid and stood up against the robot.

For a while, they stared each other down.

Maria tapped the mic. “Uh, _hola?_ Is this thing on? Test.” She tapped the mic. It shrieked back at her. “Huh. Uh, I just wanted you _demonios_ to hand over Mabel or we’ll have to fight. You will lose.”

Pyronica pointed a flaming hand at the Shack. “Attack!” The demons roared and charged.

Maria plucked the pole off the porch and ran inside. “Alright, you may attack now!”

Stanford yelled, “Everyone! Like we planned! Three, two, one, _GO!_ ”

Ivan and Susan operated the Shack’s arms. Susan’s dinosaur arm bashed Paci-Fire to the side. Ivan’s three-fingered robot arm swatted Kryptos like a fly. Stanley grabbed Gompers–who was finally calm enough to be picked up–and held him up. The goat pulled down on a lever, which caused the totem pole to start firing. The Shack spun once, shooting at the demons all around them. A few bats went down, too. Stanley cheered in victory. “You go, goat!” Gompers bleated happily.

Paci-Fire put two fingers from each hand on his head. The cross symbol on his forehead glowed. A swarm of bats attacked the Shack.

Candy laughed, “Get ’em, Gobblewonker!” The robot dinosaur lunged and snapped up a bat. .Giffany McLightning zapped two more that dared get near.

One bat dodged a lightning bolt, allowing the one behind it to get fried. Dan yelled, “No you don’t!” He hopped onto the creature and tore its wings back. In pain and surprised, the bat blasted the first thing it saw: Eight-Ball’s head. The monster grumbled and waved his arms. The bat turned and turned another bat to stone. Dan, pulling the bat forward, burst through the stone bat to shatter it. Dan leaped off the tormented creature and landed in a roll within the house. The T-Rex ate the injured eye-bat.

Multi-Bear, hooked up to half a dozen different periscopes, yelled into a music box hooked up to an intercom system, “Everyone! Incoming!”

Xanthar charged head-first into the Shacktron. Everyone within screamed as the demon shoved them back and through the barren city. They struggled to get a Grip on Xanthar and then planted their feet into the ground. Eventually, they got good enough footing where they stopped moving. The demon struggled to move forward.

“Everyone! Maximum power!” Stanford commanded. The Sev’ral Timez band ran faster on a treadmill helping to supply power. Stanley pulled the wheel back a bit and then shoved it down with all his might. The Shacktron spun. Xanthar was swept off his feet and then, using his own momentum against him, the robot flung the demon away. His party hat fell to the ground at the robot’s feet. The robot stood up straight and yanked its arm down in a sign of victory. Teeth, on fire, ran around, screaming.

Bill stood on his throne and stared at the embarrassment that had been an attack. He rubbed his eye with one hand. “ **GUYS, _SERIOUSLY?_ YOU HAD _ONE_ JOB TO DO HERE.** ”

Grauntie Mabel’s ankle chains were gone. She fell onto the arm of the chair as the chains on her arms let go of her. “For the win, Ford and Stan!” she laughed.

Bill stopped and opened his eye. “ **WELL, WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT. THOSE KIDS REALLY CARE ABOUT YOU.** ” The bricks on his body flipped over so that he turned around. “ **AND YOU CARE ABOUT THEM.** ” His eye turned red, his pupil white, and his voice deepened. “ ** _DON’T YOU?_** ”

“Wh–oh. Oh no.” Grauntie Mabel breathed.

Bill, his red eyes casting a red spotlight over her, stood up straight. “ **PERHAPS TORTURING THOSE KIDS’LL MAKE YOU TALK.** ”

“No! NO! Not the kids! You ca–” Grauntie Mabel’s cries were cut off as she was turned to gold.

Bill straightened up and his eye returned to normal. “ **LET’S GET THIS OVER WITH.** ” Bill squeezed out of the perfectly-shaped triangular hole that was his door, floated over to the Shacktron, and stopped. He held up his left hand, which was the size of the Shack, and then fixed his bow tie. Once that was over with, he narrowed his eye at the Shacktron and threw his arm down with all his might. The energy poured into the move was so great, the area around them was crushed and a flash of light and heat burst from the impact and sent a shockwave over the empty forest. Bill looked down at the vaporized rub–he looked down at the Shacktron, which was completely fine inside of its crater. “ **WHAT THE? NO, NO, NO! NO! _NO!_** ” His fist returned to its normal size and eight more arms grew out of him. He glared down at the Shacktron with a blood red eye and pounded it with all ten arms. The cube-spawned shield flared and rippled where Bill touched it. The robot was kept completely safe within it.

Stanley pointed at Bill’s eye. “ATTACK!”

Susan, grinning ear-to-ear with more savage glee than she probably intended, reached forward. The dinosaur opened its mouth wide and sank its colossal teeth into Bill’s now white eye. It tugged and tore back. The electric cord that connected his eye to the inside of his body Snapped. Bill shuttered and stopped pounding at the robot. His dismembered eye was chucked away.

Bill screamed and grasped at the hole left behind with his hands. “ **AGH! MY _EYE!_ DO YOU HAVE _ANY_ IDEA HOW LONG IT TAKES TO REGENERATE THAT?!** ”

Stanford tensed. “We’ve got him distracted! Now’s our chance!”

Grunkle Dipper pointed to the back. “Rescue team! Move out!”

Grunkle Dipper snatched Grauntie Mabel’s grappling hook and hid it in his trench coat. Stanley snatched his height-altering flashlight. He tested it on a snow globe, which grew and then fell and shattered. Stanford packed away the memory gun he still hadn’t destroyed.

Stanford, Stanley, Grunkle Dipper, Fiddleford, Candy, Dan, Preston, and Sherriff Nate all put on their backpacks and stood in the tubes.

Stanford gave them a curt nod. “Okay, everyone. Get in, rescue Mabel, get out, save the universe.”

Preston spoke up, “Just so we’re clear, if I die, I’m suing all of you.”

Stanley looked up the tube. “Uh-uh, on second thought, do we have another plan that _doesn’t_ involve us plummeting to our certain death?”

Dan yelled, “NOW!” He slammed his fist into the red button next to him. The group was sucked in through the tubes. Outside, the Gobblewonker opened its mouth and spat out the rescue team.

Stanley watched where he was going with wide eyes. “Oh man, oh man, oh man…”

They opened their patchwork parachutes as they approached a hole near the top of the Fearamid. All but Stanley got a good landing as Stanley opened his too late and fell into Stanford, knocking them both to the ground.

They unbuckled the parachutes and stood up straight. The group gasped and froze as they gazed upon the Throne.

Stanford wheezed, “It looks even worse up close.”

Stanley took the grappling hook from his great uncle’s hands. Surprisingly, he didn’t complain. The hook latched onto “Tough Girl” Wendy’s hand and pulled Stanley up. After a moment of looking, he called down, “I found Grauntie Mabel!” He tossed the grappling hook down. “She’s golden, but not in a good way!”

Stanford caught the hook. Grunkle Dipper yelled back, “Great! Grab her and let’s go!”

Stanford looked over the throne. “But how are we going to unfreeze them?”

“I know!”

All heads turned to the exhausted voice that called them. Up in a bird cage decked with a hamster water feeder and a bowl of probably food and dressed in a sailor suit was Gideon. The man, wheezing, danced and stared down at them.

“Gideon!” Stanley gasped. “What _happened_ to you?” The grappling hook snapped onto the throne again and Stanford was pulled up.

“Bill captured me,” Gideon panted and grabbed the bars of his cage. “He’s been forcing me to do cute dances in this cage for all eternity.”

Stanford gestured to the throne. “How do we undo this?”

Gideon called, “Mayor Gordy. He’s the load-bearin’ human. Pull him out, and the whole thing goes down.”

Stanford pulled Mayor Gordy’s arm until he got unstuck. Gordy, dazed, staggered forward. The chain reaction was immediate. Everyone turned from stone back into people. The throne shuttered and collapsed into a gargantuan pile of people and animals. A few people bumped into Gideon’s cage, knocking it down as They went. It split open upon hitting the hard, probably stone ground.

“Growling” Grenda put a hand on her head. “Uuuuugh. My mouth tastes like nightmares.”

Janice fell on her head, a spray paint can rolled out of her hoodie. Her wide eyes stared into nothingness. “Aah! I think I’m dark and tortured for _real_ now.”

Tad Strange sat up in the crowd. “This experience will forever scar Tad Strange.”

Gideon tore off the suit. “No more _sailor suit!_ ” He let the torn fabric fall to his feet, gasping for air.

Then, they reunited.

Dan held out his arms. “Tough Girl” Wendy swept him up for a hug. “Dan!”

“Guys!” Dan cried, hugging his mom and three brothers as tightly as he could.

Candy tackled Grenda, sending them both down. “Grenda! You are alright!”

Preston raced to the scene. “Moms!” Pacifica swooped down and plucked him off the hard ground. Tiffany grabbed them both.

 “Lee!” Sheriff Nate bulldozed the Northwests as he ran to save his Deputy Nate. He pulled the man up and coiled his arms around him.

Deputy Lee hugged him back. “Nate, you came back!”

“Of course, I did! I’d never leave you.”

Everyone clapped and cheered in the ecstasy of their freedom and being reunited with those they loved.

Grauntie Mabel unfroze. Her gaze snapped to the children. “Kids!” she cried and scooped them up. “I knew I could count on you guys!” She looked down. Mrs. Chiu now stood in front of them. “Candy, oh my God! You’re here!”

Candy wheezed as she was scooped up in a hug. “We are best friends, Mabel!”

“Make room for Grenda!” The two were nearly flattened as their burly friend joined them.

“Hey, it’s great to see you, too, sis! But, let’s get out of here.” Grunkle Dipper tipped his head to the exit.

Grauntie Mabel turned around. Stanford stood up straight. “Listen, Grauntie Mabel, we don’t have much time. Remember how you said that you knew Bill’s weakness?”

Stanley agreed, “A way to defeat him!”

Grauntie Mabel nodded. “I-I do!” She pulled on a pair of gloves and looked about. “Now does anyone have a writing or art utensil–glitter glue, markers, anything? Ah-ha! Perfect.” She snatched Janice’s can of spray paint and started painting a circle on the floor.

Stanford tensed. “Uh! We’ve got Bill occupied, but I don’t know how long we can keep it that way!”

Grunkle Dipper cocked his head. “A circle?”

Stanley glanced outside. “Uh… are you going crazy?”

“My mind is fine. There’s a way to beat him. With _this._ ” Grauntie Mabel stood up straight and looked down. The Zodiac was drawn in pastel blue beneath him.

Preston raised An eyebrow. “The world’s most confusing game of hopscotch?”

“No. A prophecy.” Grauntie Mabel looked down at her creation. “Although it might make a fun game of hopscotch. Many years ago, I found ten symbols in a cave. The native people of Gravity Falls prophesied that these symbols could create a force strong enough to destroy Bill. With Bill defeated, his weirdness would be reversed, and the town could be saved. This whole time I thought it was a lie. But seeing you all here now, I finally understand that it is _destiny._ ” She grinned and, stepping onto the shooting star, looked around her. “Stanford! The six-fingered hand. Stanley! The Holy Mackerel.” The boys stepped into their respective places, near each other but with the llama and spectacles spaces between them.

Janice stood before the stitched heart between the shooting star and star of telepathy. Dan laughed and pushed her. “That one’s _easy._ You’ve been wearing that dumb hoodie since the seventh grade.”

Janice looked down at her black hoodie with the stitched heart and gasped. “Destiny hoodie.”

Soos looked down at the question mark between the pine tree and ice symbol and laughed. “You’ve been wearing that shirt all summer, dood.”

Dan looked at him and then down at his shirt. “I just, uh, never bothered to take it off.”

“Da-an! Da-an! Da-an!” the teens chanted.

Dan smiled. “Aw, shut up.” He stepped onto the question mark.

Stanford looked down at the star. “The Tent of Telepathy sign! That’s Gideon!”

“Oh alright.” Gideon stepped forward, between Janice and Stanley.

Outside, Bill fought the Shacktron. The Shacktron clocked him with both hands, one after the other, and punched him down. Its car foot stamped on Bill’s chest. Bill grabbed at the Shack but ended up touching the forcefield. All hands, that is, but one, which touched its foot. Bill tapped the metal exterior of the bottom of the Shacktron’s leg to make sure it was tangible to him. “ **WHAT THE… HEY, ACHILLES!** ” He grabbed the robot by the leg and shoved it back. The Shacktron hit the ground. “ **NICE WORK WITH THE _HEEL!_** _”_ Bill stood up and ripped the leg he’d been holding onto clean off the robot. The occupants within the Shacktron gasped. Bill swung the leg. “ **FORE!** ”

 

Grauntie Mabel, standing between the Pine Tree and Broken Heart symbols, held out her hands. “Hold hands, everyone! Come on! This is a mystical human energy circuit.”

Stanford looked down. “Ice? Who’s ice?”

Grauntie Mabel answered, “The symbols don’t all have to be literal, Ford. It just has to be someone cool in the face of danger.”

Dan looked back. “Come over here, Maria!”

Soos patted her shoulder. “Go. Destiny! Honor!”

Maria hobbled forward until she was on the Ice symbol. “Thank you, I appreciate it. I hope this is correct.”

Grunkle Dipper nodded. “Much like the spectacles need to be someone scholarly.”

Candy and Tate shooed Fiddleford over to them. The boy stumbled and then looked up. Stanford offered his hand, drawing a confident smile from Fiddleford, who took it.

Preston looked down at his shirt and stepped into the llama square, between Fiddleford and Stanley. “This is weird.” He looked up at Stanley, who rolled his eyes and took his hand, smirking in a teasing manner. He took it. Fiddleford held out his hand but didn’t look at him. Preston sighed and took it with a mumble so low no one but Fiddleford could understand it as words. “Sorry, Farm b–Fiddleford.” Fiddleford looked back at him with round eyes and a small smile.

Then, they began to glow.

Energy coursed between them all, formed by their spirits and conducted through their hands as they all held hands–all but two. At the very end, there was a break between the shooting star and pine tree.

Grauntie Mabel Raised her head. “Everyone not in the circle: leave! It’s too dangerous!” No one hesitated to follow that order. Grauntie Mabel looked down. “Now it should be wor–huh? Dipper! Get over here! You’re the only one left!”

Dipper gestured to the circle, “Mabel, the zodiac is wrong! You know that the shooting star should be between the heart and llama and the–”

“It’ll work!” Mabel crossed. “Please, Dipper, come on!”

Preston groaned. “Ugh! Now’s not the time!”

Janice huffed, “Just get in the circle already!”

“Mr. Pines!” Fiddleford agreed. “Come on!”

Grunkle Dipper took a deep breath. Oh no. “Mabel, nothing’s going to happen if we stay in this order.”

Grauntie Mabel stated coolly, her own temper flaring under the stress. “I was the one who discovered it. I know what I’m doing. Now get over here!”

Dan held out his hand. “Come on, Mr. Pines!”

Stanford piped up, “We have to try, Grunkle Dipper!”

Grunkle Dipper sighed. “Okay, okay. But this is fruitless.” He stepped into the pine tree square and took his sister’s and Dan’s hands. “I’ll have you know that I did study this. For thirty years. Without you.”

Grauntie Mabel shot a glare at him. “You can’t blame me for not being here! I was trying!”

“Yeah, and you were the one who didn’t trust me enough to include me!” Grunkle Dipper crossed.

“Trust? Of course, I trusted you, but you wouldn’t’ve trusted me!”

“I would’ve had a good reason! You think with your heart no matter how much it’s done you wrong and you almost–no, you _have_ –risked everyone!”

“I risked everyone?” Grauntie Mabel hissed. “I was just trying to help! You were all the way across the country hunting ghosts!”

Grunkle Dipper bristled. “I was trying my hardest! I’ve been here trying to bring you back all these years. Then, over the summer, you come back and suddenly everything goes wrong! The kids are put in danger, we almost died from a wizard and a siren, I nearly got locked away for life by the government, and you can’t think past your _parties_ and your _fun._ Then you expect me to help you without any input from me? Just like everyone else because Mabel’s the good one who makes all the friends and can’t do _anything_ wrong, no matter how irresponsible or short-sighted she becomes!”

Grauntie Mabel snapped, “I survived on my own, I helped people from different dimensions, I saved a civilization from starvation, I sewed together an entire planet! I’d call that responsible! And I _just got here_ , Dipper!”

“BECAUSE OF ME!”

“AND WE’RE ABOUT TO DIE!”

“Why you–” Grunkle Dipper snarled and tore his hands out of their grip.

“Don’t ruin this!” Grauntie Mabel snapped, letting go of Janice, mainly to block the first hit and throw one of her own.

“Guys!” Stanley gasped, abandoning his position. “Stop, guys!”

Stanford left his place as well. “Break it up, two minutes! Please!” He took Grunkle Dipper by the waist and tried to pull him back while Stanley tried to hold Grauntie Mabel back. Neither adult gave any notice to the children’s presence.

The four froze as Bill appeared before the entrance. He twirled the totem pole from the Space Shack in his hand. “ **‘OH NO, IT’S BILL!’ RIGHT? ISN’T THAT WHAT YOU’RE ALL THINKING?** ” He looked at Gideon, a slight irritation coming to him. “ **HEY, GIDEON, WHY AREN’T YOU DANCING? CHOP, CHOP, HUH?** ”

ASZIFQAGLX IJ KJOFR JHZ HXAEMA WG GWG.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cool. All of them are working together! Er– _most_ of them, that is. So, I figured that Dipper and Mabel are nothing like the Stan twins, so their anger would come from something else. Ah, you know, I thought that Mabel feeling abandoned by her adventurous bro and Dipper feeling frustrated that he’s responsible for everything and Mabel gets away Scott-free (so he thinks) would be a good start. Rather than hashing it out like they should’ve back home, they just both quieted down and let everything that should have been said unsaid. And then fast-forward to a high-stress moment when all the sudden everything comes out. To be honest, I can’t blame them what with their last fight ending up with Mabel in the portal and Dipper spending thirty years getting her back on his own. Bill’s a darn savage, helping orchestrate this. Also, small thing: since Gideon’s been hanging there since Stan found Ford, does that mean he witnessed all of the torture of Mabel (canonically Ford)? Should’ve thought of that before becoming BFFs with literally a demon. Heck, he was probably there in-show canonically with Ford. Very psychologically scar-inducing. In my opinion, he kinda deserved it, but at the same time, no one deserves that. Gee, this got dark. Everything about Weirdmaggedon is dark! No wonder people (like me) were freaking out so much. Eh-heh, here I am freaking out about torture and mental scarring when I’ve done so myself in my own works. Rather ironic, is it not? Eh, let’s hope they prevail because the end is nigh!
> 
>  
> 
> 14, 12: _Ckoo wb fkz Tllxohg, Zluabatj, Rehg Mtdrxa, lpa Glhl Hyevprrdzrea Hkellhl Klvb Xtdn Zjhl Zfxlkgfnmai._


	19. Weirdmaggedon Part Four: Somewhere in the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zh’oo phhw djdlq. Grq’w nqrz zk **h** uh, grq’w nqrz zkhq. Rk, L nqrz zh’oo phhw djdlq vrph vxqqb gdb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find the Title Card on dA:

Hell and all the colors of it glowed behind Bill. He looked over the group and then burst into laughter, dropping the totem pole and putting a hand to his head as he did so. “ **THIS IS TOO PERFECT! DIDN’T YOU BRAINIACS KNOW THE ZODIAC DOESN’T WORK IF YOU DON’T ALL HOLD HANDS? AND WHAT’S BETTER, YOU’VE BROUGHT EVERY THREAT TO MY POWER TOGETHER IN ONE EASY-TO-DESTROY _CIRCLE!_** ” He waved his hands. A wave of golden fire washed over the ground. Every bit of blue spray paint crackled in flames. People around them yelped and gasped and backed away from the flames–if they could.

“Eek!” Preston sucked in his breath and patted down his hair as a few strands had caught fire. “My hair!”

Instantly, Janice looked up and patted down her hair. “Ah! My hair, too!”

Snakish, white glowing arms tipped with four-fingered hands slithered out of the flames and coiled around Grauntie Mabel and Grunkle Dipper. The two limbs constricted them like boa constrictors, removing all hope of moving beyond a fish-like thrash. The older siblings were torn into the air. “ **YOU WANNA SEE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU CAN’T GET ALONG?** ”

Standing his ground, Fiddleford glowered at him. “Hey! You give them back!”

“Oh, yeah!” Gideon piped up, “You’ve gone too far, _Cipher!_ ”

Murder in his eyes, Dan growled in agreement, “We’re not afraid of you!” He whipped out his ax while Fiddleford took out a remote and unhitched a latch on his backpack. Gideon merely raised his fists in front of him in a hard fighting stance.

Entertainment gone, Bill raised his hand. His pupil contracted. “ **OH, BUT YOU SHOULD BE!** ” He snapped his fingers. Fiddleford, Gideon, Dan, Janice, Maria, and Preston shuttered and dropped their hands to their sides. Their pupils elongated, and eyes turned yellow and rolled into the back of their heads. Glowing in soft red light, the rag-dolled team was drawn a few yards in the air, all around the triangle. “ **YOU KNOW, THIS CASTLE COULD REALLY USE SOME DECOR _ATIONS!_** ”

Whipping his hands down, Bill glowered at them with a burning intensity. The six disappeared in a flash of light. They reappeared in the wall behind Bill, behind where his throne had been. They were no longer human. Each one had been turned into ragged tapestries, their symbols beneath them and their eyes wide and mouths open in petrified screams.

He glanced at the new horrifying decorations and then looked down at Grauntie Mabel. “ **IT LOOKS LIKE IT’S TOO LATE FOR YOUR FRIENDS, MABEL.** ”

Entirely too soon, Stanley and Stanford screamed and backed up into each other as four large triangles of tangled blue bars rose out of the ground and snapped together in a cage.

Rage gone, Grauntie Mabel turned her attention to the boys. “KIDS!” Grauntie Mabel and Grunkle Dipper screamed, their struggles ceasing immediately.

Extremely venomous, now, as his patience wore thin, Bill went on in a hard voice, “ **BUT YOU CAN STILL SAVE YOUR FAMILY. LAST CHANCE: TELL ME HOW TO TAKE WEIRDMAGEDDON GLOBAL AND I’LL SPARE THE KIDS.** ”

Instantly, Stanley and Stanford rushed to the end of their cage. Stanford glared at Bill, though he was visibly trembling. “Don’t do it!”

“No!” Stanley yelled, “Er, YEAH! He makes horrible deals!”

Then, Bill whipped around and glared at the kids. He popped up in front of them so close, so suddenly Stanford nearly let go and ran away. Stanley puffed out his chest and glared at him. Bill growled, “ **DON’T TOY WITH ME, MACKEREL. I SEE _EVERYTHI-!_** ” His eye changed into a picture of the galaxy. Stanley sprayed the can of spray paint Grauntie Mabel had used directly into Bill’s eye. Bill screamed in pain and clamped his hands over his shut eye. “ **OW! NOT AGAIN! WHY?! EVERY TIME!** ”

“Ha-ha!” Grauntie Mabel grinned. “Nice shot, Hun-bun!” Grauntie Mabel and Grunkle Dipper gasped as they were released from their constricting prisons and fell.

“ **ERG! I JUST REGENERATED THAT EYE!** ”

“We know that hurts!” Stanley agreed. “Because I’ve accidently done it to myself!”

On and on, Bill continued to scream in pain. Stanford plucked the flashlight from Stanley’s pocket and grew the cage enough to allow them to escape. Stanley and Stanford hopped out of the cage and ran off into the middle of the room. Stanford yelled, “Save yourselves. Run! We’ve got Bill!”

“OH NO! WHAT!?” Grunkle Mabel gasped.

Dipper choked. “That’s a suicide mission!”

Stanford called back, “Trust us. We’ve beat him before…”

“–and we’ll beat him again!” Stanley announced, took out Grauntie Mabel’s grappling hook, and high-sixed his brother. The two, howling their victory and degrading insults, ran under Bill and to the hallway behind him.

Bill spun around, his body turning red and white and eye becoming a haunting midnight with a glowing white pupil.

“No!” Grauntie Mabel screamed and ran toward them, her brother at her side. “It’s too dangerous!” The older twins were torn back, gagging and holding onto their necks, as they were lifted into the air in an invisible chokehold. They were slammed into the ground. The cage that held the kids melted into the ground and then reappeared in an appropriate size around the older twins.

Bill, once again yellow, opened his eye and glared at them. “ **NOT SO FAST. YOU TWO WAIT HERE!** ” He turned red, grew six glowing yellow arms, sectioned himself into three pieces, and landed. Jagged teeth sprouted from the Pieces of his bottom, middle, and top sections along with a few tongues that matched his midnight black eye. “ **I’VE GOT SOME CHILDREN I NEED TO MAKE INTO CORPSES.** ” His voice became deep and booming. “ ** _SEE YA REAL SOON._** ” With that, Bill turned and skittered into the tunnel, twisting and turning to fit the triangular pathway he’d made for himself.

“NO!” Grauntie Mabel cried and pounded on the blue bars. “Wait, no! NO! What do we do?! What do we _do?!_ ”

Grunkle Dipper rattled the bars. “Kids!”

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

The Stan twins raced through the Fearamid, Bill hot on their heels. Bill swept around a corner the kids took with ease. “ **WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU KIDS, I’M GUNNA _DISSASEMBLE YOUR MOLECULES!_** ” Stanford grabbed Stanley and tugged him to a corner. Bill crashed into a dead end as the kids raced down the new corridor. The kids gasped as they came to a curve in the tunnel–a curve that went straight up. Snarling his vicious hate, Bill clambered to his feet and ran through the tunnel. Stanley popped the grappling hook, grabbed Stanford, and launched themselves up. Bill clapped his hands into the area they had just been. If they were a second later, they’d have been squashed like rotten bananas. “ **YOU’VE TRICKED ME FOR THE LAST TIME!** ”

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

Mabel sank to the ground and put her hands on her head. “Oh no. The kids are going to die and it was my fault. If I had taken this more seriously… They were right. I’m just a big joke.”

Dipper sighed and sat down next to her. “Don’t blame yourself. I was the one who ignored Bill for so long.”

Mabel stared at her feet. “Here I… Bill gave me a good view of the throne, but I couldn’t see you guys.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “I didn’t know if you’d escaped or been captured or worse.”

Dipper sighed. “In the Shack… I lost all hope. I thought that since he’d captured you, there was no way we could win. But those kids. They didn’t give up for a second. Even separated, they did their darndest to find each other.”

Mabel made a noise that sounded like a sad laugh. “We used to be like them, once. Brave, ready to take on the world, not caring about the danger. The world’s about to end and all of their friends were practically killed in front of them and they still stood up to that monster. How’d they do it?”

Grunkle Dipper smiled. “They’re kids. They don’t know the first thing about danger.” Grauntie Mabel got to her feet. He looked up at her. “Whoa, where are you going?”

Mabel sighed. “I’m going to play the only card we have left. I’m letting him into my mind. He’ll be able to take over the galaxy, and maybe even worse, but at least he might let those kids free.”

Grunkle Dipper stood up. “Are you kidding me? Are you telling me there’s nothing we can do?!”

Grauntie Mabel turned her gaze from the tunnel the kids had disappeared into to her brother. “Bill’s only weak in the mindscape. Erg. If I didn’t have this dumb plate in my head, we could just erase him out of my mind.”

Grunkle Dipper’s eyebrows knitted together. “What if… what if I let him into my mind? I don’t have a plate in my head.”

Grauntie Mabel shook her head. “No. He doesn’t care about you.”

“…will he really go for it?” Grunkle Dipper prompted.

“What other choice do we have?”

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

The Stan twins ran down a new tunnel. They screamed and stumbled to a halt as they encountered a dead end. Stanford looked around to find a nonexistent escape route. “I’m starting to believe there’s no escape.”

Stanley set his gaze and took the flashlight from his brother. “As I like to say: if one door closes, bash in the nearest wall with brute force!” He grew his fist nearly to his brother’s size before bashing in the wall. He shrunk his hand. “Ha- _ha!”_

“Yes! Let’s round up the townsfolk and def–oh no.” Stanford stopped himself as the two looked over the edge of their only exit. The townsfolk that they’d freed were gathered in a huddle. Bill’s friends had them surrounded.

Susan glared at the surrounding demons. “You’ll never take us alive, monsters!”

Teeth shrugged. “That’s fine with us.” He snapped up Shmebulock in his teeth and tipped his head back. The people gasped as they watched the monster swallow the gnome whole.

Stanley and Stanford started to take a step back. Then–

“ **PEEK-A-BOO!** ” They gasped as a yellow floodlight poured over them from behind and lifted them into the air. The kids screamed and thrashed, but to no avail. They were cornered and trapped and marked to die.

 

Bill, yellow and back in his normal form, reappeared in the main room, Stanley and Stanford gripped tight in his giant fist. “ **ALRIGHT, MABEL! TIMES UP. I’VE GOT THE KIDS. I THINK I’M GOING TO KILL ONE OF THEM NOW, JUST FOR THE HECK OF IT.** ” He moved his hand so that the fiercely struggling boys were directly before his eye. His pupil turned red and changed into the Holy Mackerel. A red floodlight poured over them. “ **EENIE…** ” His eye changed into the symbol of the Holy Mackerel. “ **MENIE…** ” His eye changed back into the six-fingered hand. “ **MIENE!** ” The kids stopped struggling and stared back into his giant eye. “ ** _YOU!_** ” He roared, his pupil turning into the six-fingered hand. He raised his free hand to snap his fingers.

“WAIT!”

Bill’s eye returned to normal and he looked down as Grauntie Mabel called his attention.

Grauntie Mabel continued in a calmer voice, “I surrender.”

“ **GOOD CHOICE.** ” He dropped the kids, causing them to land on the probably stone floor with hard _huffs_ and wheezes of aching pain.

Grunkle Dipper sucked in his breath and turned on her. “No! Don’t! H-he’ll destroy the universe!”

Grauntie Mabel didn’t look back at him. She stared at Bill with fierce determination. “It’s the only way.” Her voice wavered a bit near the end.

Bill shrunk into his normal size, just about as big as the Stan twins, and floated before the older twins. Bill burst into maniacal, twisted laughter. “ **OH, EVEN WHEN YOU’RE ABOUT TO DIE, YOU PINES TWINS CAN’T AGREE.** ”

He dropped the cage. Hands burst from the floor, constricted around Grunkle Dipper, and tied him to the floor.

Grauntie Mabel stood up straight and tall. “My only condition: you let my brother and the boys go.”

“ **FINE.** ”

Stanford set a hand beneath him to heave his chest off the ground and held out a hand to his great aunt. “No! Grauntie Mabel! Don’t do it!”

Grauntie Mabel stepped forward.

“ **IT’S A… _DEAL!_** ” Bill held out his hand, burning bright In blue flames. Grauntie Mabel took it. The color leeched from the world. Bill’s physical form turned into a stone statue no larger than the Stan twins. Bill’s spirit popped out of the statue and, giggling and laughing, rubbed his hands together and dove at Grauntie Mabel. Her eyes went round and she tensed.

Everything was white. Bill floated through the perfectly white void. One wooden door stood alone. **“OH I’M HERE. I’M FINALLY HERE! LOOK AT THIS PLACE: A PERFECTLY CALM, ORDERLY VOID. GOTTA HAND IT TO YA, SHOOTING STAR. YOU REALLY KNOW HOW TO CLEAR YOUR M** –”

Bill’s words stopped dead. The triangle demon now floated in the doorway that led to the Space Shack’s living room. Grunkle Dipper, humming to himself, read a scrapbook from when he was twelve. He looked up as Bill appeared and smirked. “Hey, Cipher.”

“ ** _WHAT?!_** ” Bill shrieked.

Grunkle Dipper laughed. “Yeah, Mabel’s a make-up genius. Switch our clothes and no one can tell us apart. Welcome to my mindscape. I’m kinda surprised you didn’t recognize it, visiting me so often!”

In the Fearamid, Grauntie Mabel was free. She stood in front of her kneeling brother. Dipper’s pine tree cap fell to the floor, revealing her now tightly bobbed hair. She took a shaky breath and pulled the memory gun from the deep blue trench coat she wore. “MASON PINES” glowed in cold green letters. She pointed the shaking gun directly at his forehead. Bluish white lights sparked and blazed in the light bulb. Grauntie Mabel, tears welling in her deep brown eyes, turned her head.

Within the mindscape, Bill waved his arms in a clear “no” fashion. “ **WHAT?** **DEAL’S OFF!** ” He spun around. The door shut so hard it trembled. Then, it burst into electric blue flames. Bill watched as the fire rapidly burned through his mind. “ **WHAT THE… NO, NO, NO, _NO!_** ” Flames engulfed the walls and licked the ceiling.

Grunkle Dipper reclined in his old chair, his sharp eyes never leaving Bill. “Heh. Yep. You’re finally going down, Cipher. Memory gun. Pretty clever, don’t you think?”

 “ **Y-YOU IDIOT!** ” Bill sputtered. The walls started to blur and go gray. “ **DON’T YOU REALIZE YOU’RE DESTROYING YOUR OWN MIND, TOO?!** ”

Grunkle Dipper grinned. “That’s the point.”

Bill looked about. “ **LET ME OUTTA HERE! LET ME _OUT!_** ” He spun around to face the door and shoved his hand forward. Weak blue tongues of flame tickled his fingers but soon went out. He put his hands on either side of his “head”. “ **WHY ISN’T THIS WORKING?!** ”

Calm as could be, Grunkle Dipper set down the scrapbook and pushed himself out of the chair. “Hey, demon. Look at me.” He stepped forward, his smirk vanishing. “Turn around and look at me!” Bill, shaking and on his knees, turned around to look at him. “You’re a pretty clever guy, I’ll admit. But you made one fatal mistake: you messed with my _family._ Funny. When I was younger, I waited for you. For days and days, I waited, preparing to defend myself and come back. But you never came. I had no idea you were targeting _my sister. You hurt her._ ” His gaze grew dark. “Now, decades later, you hurt my grandnephews? You _tortured_ my sister? Cipher, this is the last mistake you’re ever going to make.”

The fire crept forward.

Bill hopped up. “ **YOU’RE MAKING A MISTAKE! I’LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING!** ” His eye grew black and his pupil flashed through different images. First, it was a dollar sign, then a star, a pot of gold, and a galaxy. “ **MONEY! FAME! RICHES! INFINITE POWER! YOUR OWN GALAXY! _PLEASE!_** ” Bill bent over and started to melt. Fighting off the inevitable, he violently shifted from one form to the next, each one melting and crumbling. “ **NO! WHAT’S HAPPENING TO ME?!** ” His words turned into utter nonsense. “ ** _NRUTER YAM I TAHT REWOP TNEICNA EHT EKOVNI I! NRUB OT EMOC SAH EMIT YM! L-T-O-L-O-X-A_** ” Bill returned to a vague form of his original self and held out a melting hand toward him. “ **MASOOOOON!** ”

Grunkle Dipper, his eyes glowing in the swirling firelight, twisted his body back, curled his fingers up to expose the palm of his hand, and stepped forward. He struck him straight in the eye with all his might. Bill shattered into a million pieces, each piece consumed by the pretty blue flames.

Grunkle Dipper, huffing, turned around. On the burning nightstand sat a picture of his family. He couldn’t recall the time it was taken. He couldn’t remember the occasion. Whatever it was, it must have been a blast. One arm around Stanford and another around Stanley, he bared as many teeth as he could in a giant smile. Mabel hung off him and waved her arm. Her sweater was pink with the words “GREAT AUNT PINES” scrawled on it. Bottl–Waddles poked his head into the picture, his head pink and eyes green. The goat–Chompers?–struggled to get attention from Stanford. The two boys, though pretending to be annoyed at such a big hug, laughed and bared their teeth in ecstatic smiles. Dipper picked up the photo frame. Fire danced up his body and played with his hair and fingers. He nearly matched the look in the photo. “Love you, too.” He closed his eyes. The fire washed over him completely.

 

Outside, the brilliant blue, electric light that connected the memory gun to Grunkle Dipper faded. The memory gun’s light went out as the deed was done.

_Clang._

Grauntie Mabel’s shaking arms fell to her sides. The memory gun glinted innocently on the ground by her feet. She, like the two boys behind him, stared at the unconscious man they all loved. Above them, the tapestries shuttered and popped. Maria, Gideon, Dan, Preston, Fiddleford, and Janice fell in a heap on the ground nearby.

Outside, the corrupted world shuttered and bent. The rift grew wider. Monsters and demons and the weirdness Bill had created and anything else the foul demon touched was torn out of the ground and sucked up into the rift. Demons screamed and flailed and tore into anything they could get their paws, hands, or bodies on in the futile hope of staying. The townspeople that had been rounded up in a circle stared as their captors floated up into the ugly rip in the sky. Teeth hit his own lower jaw. Shmebulock fell into Deputy Lee’s arms. The Fearamid broke apart and, piece by piece, it, too, was sucked into the Nightmare Realm. The rip shuttered and shrunk. It shrank until the rift was sealed.

A wave passed over the town and surrounding area. Trees burst into leaves and branches. Animals bleated and cried and scampered back to their original places. Buildings reformed, and fires hissed out of existence. The sky blazed blue and clouds reflected white. Summoned entities Native to Earth, like Rumble and Giffany McLightning, simply dissolved. The townsfolk watched as their ruined nightmare turned into a pleasant dream.

Somewhere in the forest, Bill’s physical statue form, hand outstretched, sat half buried and covered in moss and vegetation. A bird fell onto one of his outstretched fingers and chirped a merry tune.

 

Leaves and birdsong flew through the forest on a strong wind. In a forest clearing, Grunkle Dipper sat on his knees, head bent and hands brushing the ground. His eyes gazed into the void he felt himself in. As the last of his memory and any traces of Bill burned away and he was left with nothing, not even the knowledge of his own name, his consciousness struggled to return to the real world.

“Oh-ho my gosh! Grunkle Dipper, you did it!” Stanley cried as he, Stanford, and Grauntie Mabel entered the clearing. Stanley set his old pine tree hat on his great uncle’s head. Stanford and Grauntie Mabel did not approach him. Grunkle Dipper blinked and sat up straight. Stanley grinned as Grunkle Dipper’s gaze turned on him.

“Oh! Hey, there, kid!” He set his hands on the boy’s wrist. A bright, awkward smile crept across his features. “Who are you?”

Stanley let go of him. His smile fell. “Uh, wh-what? Grunkle Dipper?”

Grunkle Dipper’s grin melted away. He looked behind himself and then back at him, as if to see if there was a “Grunkle Dipper” behind him. “Uh, who are you talking to?”

Grauntie Mabel came up to stand behind Stanford and Stanley. Stanley shook his head. “Come on, it’s me! It’s me, Grunkle! You kn-know me!” Stanford struggled to drag him back.

“I’m sorry!” Grunkle Dipper’s smile left him entirely. Genuine confusion and guilt replaced the curiosity he once held. Though, to him, anything and everything was dipped into a fog. His gaze started to become unfocused again as he slipped from their reality.

Grauntie Mabel put a hand on his shoulder. “We had to erase his mind to defeat Bill.” Grauntie Mabel’s morose gaze fell on the very confused man on the ground before them. “There’s nothing left. He doesn’t know it, but he saved us all.” Grauntie Mabel got down on her knees in front of Dipper. “He saved me. You’re our hero, Dipper.” Grauntie Mabel’s words started to shake near the end. She wrapped her arms around him and sniffled. Stanford hugged Stanley and, though the two struggled to keep tears at bay, the haunting feeling of misery choked them both.

 

Stanford, his grip on Stanley’s hand still tight, led them back to the Space Shack. Grauntie Mabel held an arm around Grunkle Dipper’s shoulders as to guide him. Grauntie Mabel’s sweater was a stark silver void of patterns. Grunkle Dipper’s navy-blue overcoat fluttered in the wind and covered most of his silver shirt. Fiddleford held his hand.

As they walked, Stanford picked up an alien spaceship keychain. When they got to the door of the heap of broken wood and missing shingles, it wouldn’t open. Stanford let go of Stanley long enough to ram into it a few times to push it over. He took Stanley’s hand again. Waddles and Gompers, who had been on the sagging porch, joined them as they walked through the haunting echo that was once their home. Waddles, feeling the pain that emanated from Grauntie Mabel like a space heater, turned silver and nudged her knee. Grauntie Mabel and Fiddleford let go so that Stanley and Stanford could lead him into their broken living room.

Grunkle Dipper, now conscious enough to take in his surroundings, looked about his ruined home. “Heh. N-nice place you have here.”

Stanley nodded. “Y-yeah! It’s your home!”

“It’s your place!” Stanford agreed.

“Don’t you remember? Even a little?” Stanley pressed.

“No, I’m sorry.” When they let go of him, Grunkle Dipper wandered over to the couch and sat down. He closed his eyes with a small sigh. The soft chair was a very large difference to the hard dirt and itchy grass. He looked about and then turned to them. “But, uh, heh. This couch is nice.” He opened his eyes to see Grauntie Mabel, Stanley, Stanford, and Fiddleford gathered in the living room. They stared at him as if seeing a dead man rather than an amnesiac. Grauntie Mabel kept a hand over her mouth and another on Waddles’ fuzzy back for reassurance. “Hey, hey!” Grunkle Dipper sat up straight. “What’s wrong?” He smiled. “You guys look like you’re at a funeral!”

Stanford put a hand on his head. “He saved the world, but what’s the point? Grunkle Dipper isn’t himself, anymore.”

“There’s gotta be something we can do to jog his memory!” Stanley exclaimed.

“I’m sorry,” Grauntie Mabel denied. “Dipper’s gone.” She flinched at the very words.

“No!” Stanley snapped. “I know he’s in there somewhere! There’s gotta be somethin’ to bring him back.” Grauntie Mabel did not counter him, nor did Stanford. It was futile. Stanley was just as bullheaded as any man Stanford knew. If an idea came to him, if a hope came to him, there was nothing the world could do to rob him of it. He’d hunt for years if the slightest hope was in his head, no matter how impossible it might be. Grunkle Dipper could be dead, and he wouldn’t give up.

Stanley found a picture partially hidden beneath a plank of wood. He snatched it and jumped into Grunkle Dipper’s lap. “Look! This is you! Don’t you remember? Even a little?”

Stanford hopped onto the arm of the chair. “Yeah! That’s when we defeated Gideon and got the Shack back!”

Grunkle Dipper looked over the photo. Dipper, Stanley, and Stanford posed for the camera in the Shack they’d taken back from Gideon. Stanford waved at them while Stanley stepped back and waved his hands in a grand manner. Grunkle Dipper put his hands on his neck as if being strangled. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what this is or who you are,” Grunkle Dipper confessed.

Waddles honked and nipped at Stanford’s ankle, unable to take the stress in the room any longer. Stanford sucked in his breath and lifted his foot.

Grunkle Dipper jumped. He pulled Stanford back and shooed his hand. “Back off, Waddles! You’re scaring him!”

The boys gasped. “What did you say?”

Grunkle Dipper pushed the insistent space hog back with his foot. “I said: back off, Waddles!”

“It’s working!” Stanley gasped.

“Pictures! That’s it!” Grauntie Mabel rushed out of the room. When she came back, she brought with her a scrapbook. Stanley darted into the attic and came back down with a whole bunch of photos and a camera.

Grauntie Mabel gave the scrapbook to Stanley and hovered over Grunkle Dipper’s shoulder. Fiddleford hung off the edge of the seat by Stanford. “Tell him about that Summerween!”

“Ugh,” Grunkle Dipper scoffed. “All that candy really got you in trouble.”

They laughed and Stanley started shuffling through photos. “Yeah, yeah! I took lots of pictures over the summer and Stanford wrote down everything in his journal. Oh! This is our first day here! You were really paranoid and wouldn’t let us go out of sight of the Shack. But we did get to meet Dan and Maria, who were pretty fun…”

Everyone chipped into story time, underlining things others said or correcting each other and praising Grunkle Dipper whenever he got something right–which was usually an off-hand comment he couldn’t quite remember why he said.

Eventually, the family got hungry. They talked and joked until they got hungry. Grauntie Mabel left to cook a “surprise” for them. When she did, Stanford, Stanley, and Fiddleford chattered on and on about their summer vacation.

“Then we went out to find the Gobblewonker!” Stanford informed him with a nod.

“But it nearly killed us,” Fiddleford pointed out.

“But it didn’t because we beat it!” Stanley exclaimed.

Stanford nodded. “I got some very good photos of it.”

“And then ma dad’s boat was broken,” Fiddleford admitted. “We could hardly get back across the lake. Oh he wasn’t happy ’bout that. Spent the rest a’ the day fixin’ it up.”

Stanley smiled. “That’s when we agreed that leaving you for mysteries was pretty dumb.”

“And then we joined you out in the water and had a blast!” Stanford agreed.

Grunkle Dipper laughed. “That’s quite the adventure! Do you have these types of adventures often?”

Stanford chuckled. “More than we used to tell you.”

Stanley nodded. “You said you didn’t believe in the supernatural, so we didn’t really tell you about our adventures. But then we found out you actually did, but you were lying about it so that we wouldn’t get in trouble chasing after them. You said it was Extremely dangerous.”

“You were kind of right,” Stanford agreed.

“Very right!” Fiddleford cut it. “It was very dangerous.”

The Stan twins laughed. Stanley jabbed a thumb at Fiddleford. “He’s always been the cautious one. He makes sure we don’t get in over our heads.”

“Try to,” Fiddleford corrected, though he couldn’t lose his smile.

“We thought we could handle the danger,” Stanley began again. “That was, until we met–” Stanley cut himself off. The mood in the room dampened quite a bit. “Er… that was, until things got dangerous.”

“Met who?” Grunkle Dipper prompted.

The three looked at each other. Stanford said in heavy voice, “Bill.”

“Bill,” Stanley growled. “Of everything we ever met, he was the absolute worst.”

“He tried going into your mind,” Stanford replied. “He tried stealing the code to the safe with the deed to the Shack in it.” He closed his eyes. “He tricked me, and I-I believed him for most of the summer before Gideon summoned him.”

Stanley nodded. “We followed him into your mind to defeat him!”

“But it wasn’t easy,” Stanford pointed out.

Fiddleford shivered. His eyes welled up in tears. “He could make people see their worst nightmares.”

Grunkle Dipper leaned over and pulled Fiddleford in for a hug. “Hush, Fiddle. You’re okay, now.”

Fiddleford sniffled and looked up at her. “Wh-what?”

He smiled and opened his eyes. “I said that you’re okay. You guys said he was gone. I wouldn’t let anyone lay a finger on you three.”

The three became absolutely ecstatic. Fiddleford hugged Grunkle Dipper as hard as he could. “Th-thank you, Mr. Pi–Dipper.”

Stanford managed to ask, “Wh-what did you call him?”

“Fiddle,” Grunkle Dipper replied. “You know, because Fiddleford takes so long to say.”

Stanley tipped his head back, “GRAUNTIE MABEL! GRAUNTIE MABEL!”

Grauntie Mabel raced into the living room. “What? What happened?!”

Stanford and Stanley turned to him. Stanley laughed, “Grunkle Dipper just called him Fiddle! He remembered his nick-name! He remembered his nick-name!”

Grauntie Mabel ran to his side in an instant. “Oh my gosh, Dipper…” Grauntie Mabel blinked away the tears of joy that attempted to creep up on her. Something beeped in the kitchen. She turned her head around so quickly it was a surprise it didn’t snap. She raced into the kitchen without another word spoken. This caused them to laugh.

Grunkle Dipper looked about the trio. “What? Is she burning it or something?”

Stanford shook his head. “Nope. She’s a very good cook.”

Stanley agreed, “She makes the best cookies!”

Fiddleford nodded. “An’ she puts glitter in her cookies so it’s sparkly.”

“And in hot-cocoa,” Stanley agreed.

“She said hot chocolate and cookies was the best cure-all,” Stanford agreed.

The three weren’t hesitant to launch into their next story–the one where they got attacked by gnomes. At the time, Fiddleford had been working with his father. They hadn’t even met yet. Thus, the Mystery Twins were just a duo. They wouldn’t be a trio until later.

Eventually, Grauntie Mabel poked her head into the living room. “Dinner’s ready!”

The kids jumped off him and ran into the kitchen. Fiddleford took Grunkle Dipper by the hand and led this time. Grauntie Mabel stood by the dinner table, a wide grin on her features. A full chicken sided by a conglomeration of things found in the cabinet and fridge dressed the table. A bowl partially full of cookie dough was on the counter next to a steaming plate of cooling cookies. Water, orange juice, and Mabel Juice sat happily on the table.

Grunkle Dipper laughed as she sat down. “Are you sure you found enough?”

Grauntie Mabel shrugged as she sat down. “Maybe. We just haven’t eaten anything real in _days_.”

Stanley was the first to take a piece of the chicken, followed by Fiddleford and then Stanford.

“What’s this?” Grunkle Dipper prompted as he turned the container of Mabel Juice around to look at the container.

“Mabel Juice,” Grauntie Mabel replied. “Just the best drink _ever!_ ”

Stanford opened his mouth as if to warn him. Grauntie Mabel smiled and shook her head.

Grunkle Dipper poured himself a glass of the pink drink sparkling with glitter and flecked by plastic dinosaurs. One of The dinosaurs ended up in his drink.

Stanley held up a glass of orange juice. “For the defeat of Bill!”

Stanford raised his glass of water. “For our hero: Grunkle Dipper!”

Everyone else raised their glasses. “Amen!”

Grunkle Dipper attempted to drink the concoction but immediately gagged. “Holy–what’s in this?” The rest of the table burst into laughter.

After dinner, they attacked the cookies. No cookie was left uneaten.

 

Stanford listened to Stanley as he talked about how there was always a camera in the car no matter what. The sudden memory of seeing a well-worn camera by a pile of tapes in a box popped into his head. “Oh! Grunkle Dipper! You really love video-taping stuff. I found this camera and these tapes we haven’t seen. Maybe you can have those!”

“Oh, really? Let me see it!” Grunkle Dipper sat up straight.

Stanford hopped off his lap and ran into Grunkle Dipper’s room. He gently picked up the old box clear of dust with an ancient camera on top. He made his way back to the living room. Stanley slipped off his lap and stood next to him. Stanford set the box on his lap. “I don’t know what they are or whatever. I didn’t watch them.”

Grunkle Dipper inspected the old camera. “What? How old is this thing?” He pressed a button. It wearily turned on. “Whoa. It still works.” He turned it back off and picked up the first tape on the box. “DGTUE 12: BathGhost” labeled the front of it. Grunkle Dipper looked over it. “Huh. Weird. This thing looks old but it’s not dusty. DGTUE 12: BathGhost…?” Suddenly his eyes went round, and he dropped the tape onto the pile. “Oh my God!”

“What?” Stanford gasped. “What? Is that bad or something?”

Grunkle Dipper picked it up again and then looked over another with shaky hands. “DGTUE 5: HouseGrem” He choked, “Dipper’s Guide to the Unexplained…” He looked up at Grauntie Mabel with round eyes. “I-I don’t know–is this important? It feels important.”

Grauntie Mabel put a hand to her mouth. “Dipper that’s… when we were kids, you’d make videos about crazy conspiracies. I always helped. You still have them.”

“Yeah. We used to go out looking for things and…” He put a hand on his head. “Ugh. I have a headache, now.”

“You were always looking for crazy conspiracies!” Grauntie Mabel agreed. “When we made all of the ‘Dipper’s Guide to the Unexplained’ videos, I’d draw everything and film it. You’d do the research and talk about it. We were a great team.”

The three kids decided to leave Grunkle Dipper and Mabel alone as Grauntie Mabel set up the TV and started shifting through the “Dipper’s Guide to the Unexplained” tapes. “You really do have them all.” Her eyes watered. “Even those dumb tapes I made about the Guide to Life stuff when I stole your camera.”

The kids hung around outside. Fiddleford waved goodbye as his father picked him up. Stanley and Stanford sat outside, looking through all three scrapbooks.

Stanford found the page over unicorns. “Do you think he’s going to get his memories back?”

Stanley looked up at him. “Of course! What are you talkin’ about?”

Stanford sighed. “Mrs. Chiu went crazy after using the memory gun too much. She’s regained a lot of her memory, but she’s still a bit… off. Do you think that will happen to Grunkle Dipper?”

Stanley shook his head. “Nah, man. He’s gunna be just fine.”

That night, as Stanford and Stanley went to bed, they found Grunkle Dipper and Grauntie Mabel sleeping in the living room, Grauntie Mabel leaning on Grunkle Dipper’s shoulder and Grunkle Dipper’s cheek pressed against her head. Stanford threw a blanket over the two of them before they went to bed. The attic held them up surprisingly well. Still, Stanley didn’t push his luck by jumping on the bed. Stanford scribbled down the day before he went to sleep.

 

The next day, people around the town and monsters in the forest flocked their house, led by none other than Fiddleford McGucket. Wood, nails, hammers, shingles, and everything in-between over their shoulders or on Repair and building equipment heavy and light were with them. Candy Chiu was the operator of the mission to fix up the house. She, with the help of lumberjacks like “Tough Girl” Wendy, repairmen like Soos and Fiddleford, and construction workers, monsters, and financial support from Pacifica Northwest, took the plans for the house from Grauntie Mabel and rebuilt it, almost from scratch.

Fiddleford, dressed up in a hard hat and some shiny yellow clothes, grinned at the Pines family as they gathered outside. “We’ll be taking your stuff outside for you. In the meantime, the local hotel rented out the best room they had for you guys with no charge. Or you could stay at my house or anywhere. ‘Tough Girl’ Wendy says she has a log cabin you all can stay in for a while. ‘Growling’ Grenda says she’s donatin’ meals for you. Everyone’s very grateful and very happy to accommodate you.”

Grauntie Mabel got down on one knee. “You are a special kid, Fiddleford. Thank you.”

A pinkish tinge came to his cheeks. Fiddleford chuckled. “Well, Dipper’s a hero. I didn’t really have to say anythin’ to get them ta help. The whole town loves you guys.”

 

In the meantime, Stanford and Stanley led them around the town. Stanford gestured to Greasy’s Diner. “We go there sometimes. You were always really scared of Grenda! Stanley won this trivia game that he obviously rigged.”

“Didn’t rig it.”

“So, I went out to find a way to learn about stuff like that, too. Unicorns are jerks.”

Grauntie Mabel huffed, “You can say _that_ again!”

Stanley looked up at the theater as they passed it. “Or when I made that Sock Opera because I was trying to outdo someone and Stanford got possessed by Bill.”

Stanford scowled. “Yes. There’s no way I can forget that.”

Grauntie Mabel looked at him in surprise. “You were–?”

“Yeah,” Stanford answered. “I was trying to get the password to this laptop I thought was yours. It was Mrs. Chiu’s. I thought by getting into it, I could discover who the author was. Stanley said he’d help me, but he ended up getting into a competition against this puppet guy.”

Stanley nodded. “Yeah, I was kind of dumb.”

“Kinda?” Stanford scoffed. “Anyway, long story short, Bill tricked me and destroyed the laptop. He tried getting the scrapbook, too, but Stanley beat him up. Ugh. I couldn’t walk for a week after that!”

“And you nearly killed us,” Stanley agreed and looked up at Grunkle Dipper. “You thought we were fighting for real and I… kinda went a bit far. So, you made me clean up the mess we made almost by myself. You made sure there was always someone with Ford until he was better.”

“You were always looking after us,” Stanford agreed. “When we were attacked by Gideon, you let yourself get beat up to let us leave.”

“Or during the zombie attack and you took on an entire horde of zombies.”

Stanford laughed. “Or when you punched a pterodactyl in the face because it stole Gompers!”

Grauntie Mabel looked at her brother and then her nephews. “He really did all that?”

The twins nodded. “Yep.”

Stanford went on, “He’s the most selfless person we know.”

“And one of the nicest,” Stanley agreed. “He’s much nicer than Dad. When he found out I really like cooking, he didn’t tease me. Instead, he taught me how to cook!”

Quite suddenly, a scowl came to Grunkle Dipper. “Your father really is too hard on you kids. No matter what he says, you’d be much better off in a more supportive household.”

The Stan twins looked up at him in shock. Grauntie Mabel was quick to ask, “Really? Now, who’s their father again?”

“Filbrick! Tyrone’s oldest son,” Grunkle Dipper huffed. “Tyrone is such a great brother and a really good dad. Filbrick’s a 1960’s cinderblock with glasses. Honestly, he needs to loosen up a bit and be more supportive of the boys. Stanley likes cooking and if he wasn’t told it was a girl’s _chore_ he’d be much happier.” He continued his rant for a good few minutes before burning out. “Any time we go to family meetings he always gives me this sideways stare like he’s judging me.” He huffed and then looked about him. They had stopped moving as Grunkle Dipper seethed. “Oh, no. Uh… That’s your dad I’m talking about.” He put a hand on the back of his neck. “Uh, I’m sorry.”

Stanley shook his head. “No, it’s okay.”

Stanford thought for a moment. “You know, we never really knew Maria’s mom, either.”

“The deadbeat,” he agreed dryly.

“But we did meet her grandfather.”

“Oh, yes! Him!” Grunkle Dipper perked up. “Soos has been our best friend for years.”

“What about Mrs. Chiu?” Stanford prompted.

“Candy? Oh, she’s a great woman and a good mom,” Grunkle Dipper chuckled. “Yeah. We’ve been friends ever since Middle school, when she and Grenda met Mabel.”

When they got home, people had packed up what the Pines would need, and some things that they’d want, in Dipper’s RV–the Pines Mabile.

 

As the town and the monster community outside helped repair the house of their heroes, the Pines wandered through memory lane. Grunkle Dipper picked up bits and pieces of the life the memory gun burned away. It was slow-going, of course. Some memories were instantaneous.

“That party!” Grunkle Dipper laughed. “I remember that! You hated your suits, but Mabel and I thought you looked good in them.”

Some memories were slow to come.

“What do you mean ‘Mystery Fair’? Did I host a fair?”

Still, they worked with him, patient as could be. When their house had been repaired, they moved right back in. In celebration, Mabel taught Dipper how to bake cookies and they made enough for the whole crew to have a few of the glittery confections.

Sometimes, they’d take breaks from the scrapbooks and videos to play. Stanley and Stanford got to team up against Grunkle Dipper and Grauntie Mabel in a water war.

Stanley chucked a water balloon straight at Grunkle Dipper’s face. Grunkle Dipper ducked. It ended up hitting the back of Grauntie Mabel’s head. Her hair was immediately soaked. “Hey!” She chucked a pink balloon at Stanley. It narrowly missed.

Stanford caught Grunkle Dipper on the shoulder. “Gotcha!”

Grunkle Dipper reciprocated with a feign. When Stanford went to the left to avoid a right hit, Grunkle Dipper changed and hit him square in the chest. “Got you back!”

Grauntie Mabel plucked two more out of a bucket of water and let out a war howl before pelting Stanley and Stanford. The kids grabbed their own and the water war went fierce–that was, until the twin boys ran out of water balloons on their side.

Stanley and Stanford backed into a corner, defenseless and soaked. Grunkle Dipper and Grauntie Mabel held the last four water balloons. Grauntie Mabel lifted her pink and purple ones. “Are you ready to surrender?”

Stanley and Stanford looked at each other.

“Well…” Stanley started with a smirk. “I’d say we are but…”

“NOW!” Stanford yelled.

Their great aunt and uncle hesitated and then looked up. Dan and Fiddleford stood on the roof, both buckets half full of water and flecked with scraps of broken water balloons in their hands. The older twins were completely soaked in seconds. Their own balloons hit the ground at their feet and Exploded.

Grauntie Mabel shook her head. “Hey! Cheaters!” She grabbed the hose and pointed up. The boys on the roof laughed and ran off. “Get back here!”

Grunkle Dipper rubbed his face and spat out some chilled water before following her.

Stanley and Stanford stopped under the roof again and held out their hands. Dan dropped two super soakers full of water down for the boys to catch. Candy, equally as sneaky as the boys helping the Stan twins, passed water guns to her best friends.

This is what summer was supposed to be–dumb things forever. Pelting each other with water balloons, chasing each other with squirt guns, eating frozen treats under the hot sun, and laughing with friends and family. As the day winds to an end, reading stories and munching on cookies and falling asleep in the middle of a cheesy movie. That summer, despite the atrocities that happened not a week and a half prior, the boys had the best time of their lives. In Grauntie Mabel’s case, the best time in over thirty years. For Grunkle Dipper? The fastest and most fun recovery he could imagine with two of the greatest great nephews and best sister he could ever hope for.

 

The late August sun sent rays of life over Gravity Falls. A woodpecker hopped onto the repaired “Welcome to Gravity Falls” sign. A gnome popped up and ate it.

Shandra Jimenez, somewhere on the news, spoke. “Good morning, Gravity Falls. It’s another beautiful day. But every day is beautiful now that the… unpleasantness is over.”

Around town, people painted over, scratched out, wiped up, or burned Bill propaganda and terrified cries for help and Blind Eye symbols. People helped each other out and celebrated the grand day.

Robbie Valentino and Tambry Valentino wandered the cemetery. Zombies tried to claw their way out of the ground, but the funeral directors simply pushed them back down. Another zombie grabbed Tambry’s leg as she pushed one into the ground. Robbie stopped. “Oh! Looks like someone likes you!”

Tambry chuckled. “Janice! Do you mind getting us the sawed-off shotgun?”

Janice groaned, “Ugh, fine! Whatever.” She wheeled around and stalked off to their house.

The former mayor, Mayor Befufftlefumpter, popped out of the ground. “Brains, and so forth.”

Tambry pushed him under the ground. “Nope. None of that, thank you.”

Gordy stood on stage before the townspeople. “None of us really understand what just happened, and none of us want to. That’s why I’m passing the: ‘Never Mind All That’ Act. If anyone goes asking around about the ‘events’ of the last few days, what do we say?” A large banner yelling “NEVER MIND ALL THAT” dropped down above the stage.

The crowd yelled in unison, “Never mind all that!”

Sherriff Nate, who flanked the mayor with Deputy Lee, announced, “And if you break the rules, we’re gunna zap you.”

Deputy Lee waved his tasers around. “Zap! Zap! We’re mad with power!”

Shandra Jimenez continued, “In other news, fortunes have turned for local maniac, Candy Chiu who, after regaining her sanity, has made millions overnight submitting her patents to the US government.”

Outside the dump, Mrs. Chiu stood before a news camera. “I’m gunna buy a bigger house!”

“In other good news, town hero, Dipper Pines, has fully recovered his memory and will be throwing a party to celebrate his and his twin sister’s birthday and their nephews’ final day in town. But other than that, I can safely say our beloved Gravity Falls is back to normal. And now, Bodacious T. with sports.”

Thompson Determined, holding a bat and dressed wildly in spiked, dark clothes, slammed a skull onto the counter of the news room. “It’s called: Death Ball.”

 

In front of the Space Shack, standing beneath the mid noon sun and surrounded by family, friends, citizens, and party supplies, were Grunkle Dipper and Grauntie Mabel. They flanked a giant cake on the stage used to show off the wax people. Their great nephews and the friends they met along the way stood by them. The cake, pink and decorated with rainbows and pine trees along the side, burned bright in candles.

“…to you!” the crowd sang and cheered.

Grauntie Mabel, an elbow on Grunkle Dipper’s shoulder, laughed. “It’s so awesome you all came! I can’t believe you threw this for _us!_ ”

Mayor Gordy piped up, “After all the Pines have done for us, it’s the least we could do!”

Gideon nodded sharply. “Thanks to y’all savin’ us, I’m gonna learn to open my heart to kindness.”

Bud piped up, “No more evil-doin’. From now on, we’re gunna be Gideon and Bud–”

“–Normal townsfolk!” they said at the same time.

Soos laughed, “Dude, make a wish, dawg!”

Grauntie Mabel looked to her brother. Grunkle Dipper took a deep breath and shook his head. “Since I was a kid, all I’ve ever wanted is adventure, mystery, true friends. But, looking around at you guys, I’ve realized that it’s already come true.”

Grauntie Mabel piped up, “Yeah, well, if I had only one wish I’d wish everyone could stay here for forever. But since that’s probably impossible, I want these two to have the best send-off in the history of ‘see-you-later’s!”

Stanley grinned and held up a deep brown book labeled “SUMMER MEMORIES”. “I’ve got a brand new scrapbook everyone can sign!”

Grauntie Mabel nodded. “And make this day one that no one will forget!”

“Yeah!” Stanford agreed. An idea popped into his head. “Wait.” He took out the memory gun and dropped it, smashing his foot into the center to cave in the metal and shatter the bulb. “ _Now_ it will be a day no one will forget.” Fiddleford whooped. Everyone else laughed and cheered with them.

“Hey!” Preston, who was still by Pacifica and Tiffany, called their attention. “Open your presents already. I gave myself a paper cut wrapping them.”

Grauntie Mabel looked at her brother and chuckled. “Kids.”

“If you insist.” Grunkle Dipper agreed.

 

Later that Evening, all was still. No party-goers invaded the Shack and no souls dwelled within. The late sun sent streaks of light and color through the empty attic. As if in a dream, the Space Shack stood with a might and power it hadn’t held for over thirty years. The forest went on strong and peaceful as ever. The town buzzed with dull, early evening light.

Stanley and Stanford, donned in pink sweaters stitched with words, stood at the bus stop. Grauntie Mabel, Grunkle Dipper, Fiddleford, Ivan, Dan, Maria, Susan, Waddles, and Gompers stood with them.

“Ugh!” Susan groaned. “Do you have to leave? There’s still lots of things we haven’t done!”

Stanley nodded and put a hand on the back of his neck. “Yeah, kinda. Summer’s over.”

Susan sighed. “It just went by so fast.” She smiled. “You guys better be coming back soon.”

Stanley put a finger on his chin. “I dunno. I mean, we have a busy schedule being teens, but _maybe._ ”

Fiddleford stood by Stanford and held his hand tight in his own. “Hey, Ford. I… we had a really fun summer.” He gave him a crooked smile. “It’s been really great having you over.”

Stanford chuckled. “Yeah, well… it’s been awesome being here, too. But we’ll come back.” He nodded his head sharply. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Fiddleford grinned. “You better!” He hooked his arm around him and gave him a light kiss. “Ah don’t want people thinkin’ your imaginary, now.”

Stanley put Fiddleford in a headlock. “No way, man!”

Fiddleford gasped and struggled out. “Hey!”

Stanley laughed uproariously. “You’re never gunna change, are you?”

Fiddleford rubbed his neck, though he couldn’t put down the smile. “Yeah, Ah guess.”

Grauntie Mabel grinned. “Glad to see you’re wearing my good-bye sweaters.” She indicated the pink sweater with the words “GOODBYE” stitched on the chest. Stanford wore one similar.

Stanley shrugged. “It’s kinda chilly out. I had to.”

Dan knelt in front of the boys. “Hey, you mean a lot to me, dudes.” He held out his fist.

Stanley fist-bumped him. “You, too.”

Dan pulled off his hat and fit it over Stanley’s head. “If you’re wearing Mabel’s sweater, you’re taking something of mine, too!”

Stanley fitted the hat over his head and grinned. He reached under the sweater, unpinned his Holy Mackerel pin, and stuck it on Dan’s flannel jacket. “You, too, dude.”

Dan laughed and pulled out a paper. “Hey: to remember us by.” Stanford took the folded paper. “Read it next time you miss us.”

The bus pulled up. The doors opened with a _hiss_. “Last bus leaving Gravity Falls. All aboard.”

Stanley sighed. “Welp. Guess we said goodbye to everyone.”

“Yeah,” Stanford agreed. “Everyone but…” His eyes fell on the baby, one-horned goat by Waddles. “Gompers.” Gompers bounded up to him and looked up. Stanford got down on one knee and sighed. “I… well, Gompers I’m sorry. But Dad won’t let us have pets, so they won’t let me bring a goat to New Jersey. So…” He shut his eyes tight. “–you’re just going to have to stay here.”

Gompers bleated and, sensing his distress, bit the sleeve of his sweater.

“Gompers, please,” Stanford whined and took his sweater out of the goat’s grasp. “You’re gunna stay here. I don’t know how else to say it.”

Grunkle Dipper’s gaze grew hard. “Oh, you know what? Forget it! I’ve had to deal with this little chomper all summer. It’s your parents’ turn.” He plucked Gompers off the ground, marched over to the bus, and set him down on the top of the stairs. “This here goat is going with these boys.”

The Bus Driver leaned toward him and pointed to the “no animals” sign. “Now, hold on a second. Bringing animals aboard a moving vehicle is strictly prohibited by-” He cut himself off. Grunkle Dipper moved his trench coat back and revealed a knife. Grauntie Mabel showed off her grappling hook, partially hidden under her deep scarlet sweater. Both older twins gave him a dark look.

“W-wah… w-w-welcome aboard,” the bus driver’s tune changed in an instant. “You can sit in the front row, goat.”

Grunkle Dipper stepped back so that he was in front of the kids. He got down on one knee and set his gaze. “Kids, you little _gremlins_ were a wreck to the house and the best thing that’s happened to us in years.”

Stanley and Stanford immediately let go of their bags and launched themselves at him in a tight hug. “Ugh!” Stanley grunted. “We’ll miss you, too!”

Grunkle Dipper held them at arm’s length. “We’re a phone-call away, okay? Remember that. Or an e-mail. Hey.” He grew serious. “You have your train tickets, right? And your bus tickets?”

“Yes, Grunkle Dipper,” Stanford and Stanley responded, exasperated after the thirteenth time they were asked.

“And you brought those snacks I gave you, right? And–”

“We got it!” Stanley interrupted.

“We’ll be fine,” Stanford agreed.

Grunkle Dipper smiled. “Oh, I know.”

Grauntie Mabel knelt by her brother. “You better be. Or I’ll march right up to wherever-you-are and make sure you are! Don’t think I won’t!” She got up and ruffled the boys’ hair before standing back.

Stanford picked up his wheeled bag and met Stanley by the entrance. “You ready?”

Stanley took a deep breath. “Nope.” He stared at the bus. “Let’s do this.”

As they settled down in the bus, they turned their gaze out. The bus started to move. The crowd waved and chased the bus. Stanley waved and yelled, “Bye! We’ll miss you!”

“Bye!” Stanford called. “I’ll miss you! Bye!”

The crowd followed until the bus got too fast too far to continue. For a while, the crowd stayed and watched them go. Grunkle Dipper set a hand on Grauntie Mabel’s shoulder and smiled.

 

The boys watched Gravity Falls disappear behind them as they drove off. Stanford watched as multiple gnomes stacked themselves up on the “Welcome to Gravity Falls” sign and wave at their passing.

 

The sun dipped farther below the horizon. Gompers slept on Stanford’s lap and Stanley, out of it and tired, leaned on his brother as well. Stanford took out the folded letter Dan gave them and opened it. “See you next summer” was scrawled upon it. Everyone’s signatures, along with a few small phrases, decorated it. Stanford smiled and looked out the window.

 

HWZIMZQIH, GBY’OV KSIBN HH NLEI GBY’OV KSIBN HH.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clearly, things are looking up. All the struggles, the fights, the effort… it’s paying off. Everyone’s happy. Stan and Ford are going back home. At least they got a good farewell! Really, everyone in Gravity Falls is falling back into their own niche. At least, a _better_ niche, a happier one. The twins really had an effect on everyone. Bill’s death and the reversal of his tyranny is a dream few could hope for. At least everyone’s safe… though, their psychological well-being after going through the apocalypse might take a little longer to save. So, there might be some things to worry about there. However, for the most part, everything is turning back to normal… rather, looking up as normal was just a frail balance of pleasure and pain. Very interesting is this town. I hope to see it again! Gee, I’m sure everyone hopes that. Eh-heh, who wouldn’t love Gravity Falls? Now, in the canon show, this was the final chapter. Ergo, this should be the final chapter now. Right? Eh, there’s still one thing that hasn’t been set quite right…
> 
>  
> 
> 14, 8: _Xljaal Apsq fia Nyhyp tbn Jilsc Tbtrr pnq Xhtr Tpi Rkcmidlx sa wxy Khjp kk e Bybhmuy’m Rbuw. Qqapyy Nahu Oeaf, Xm Xrr Ccc Osin Cqj?_


	20. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill’s been defeated and everyone gets to go home! It’s not that simple, unfortunately. It neve **r** is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find the Title Card on dA:

It was all downhill from here, and the twins both knew it. Their parents were downstairs, arguing again. Stanley and Stanford looked at each other. This was the second argument since the boys had gotten home. They hadn’t even unpacked their things. Their names were both caught in the tangle of words.

_“Then you can take Stanley.”_ Their father’s harsh voice reached them. The boys’ eyes grew wide. Sometimes, their names did get tangled up in their arguments, but this was new.

_“I could also take custody of both of them!”_

_“Sst! Without a house? I don’t think so!”_

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

The next morning, Stanley held onto his mother’s hand, his suitcase dragging behind him. “Mom? Where are we going?”

“Right out,” Cassandra said, her tone clipped. She let go of him long enough to load his things into the back and get in. He scooted over so that he was sitting on the seat facing the road and buckled himself in. Cass closed Stanford’s door and started the car. “Home.”

“Uh, what about Ford?” A panic came to Stanley’s voice.

“Er–He’s… he’s not coming with.” Cass’ voice wavered a bit.

Stanley’s eyes grew round. He tried to open the door, but it was no use. The child safety lock paired with the car moving didn’t allow the door to budge. “What? No! No, we can’t leave Ford! Stanford!” Stanley yelled and looked out the back.

Too late, he heard his name called. _“Stan!”_ It was distant as Cass’ car was getting further and further away.

“Ah! No! Ford! Mom, we have to go back! FORD!” Stanley cried. He rolled down the window to look back. He managed to catch a glimpse of his brother, Filbrick’s hand clutching his arm, before they turned a corner. He ignored his mother’s muffled whimpers and called out to his brother again. There was no way he could hear him. “Ford! Mom, we have to go back! We gotta! Ford!”

Yet, they didn’t turn around. Cass’ whimpers became stifled sniffling and weak pleads for him to be quiet. Stanley wasn’t about to listen to the woman who took him away from his brother. Even when she shut and locked the window on him, he kept yelling.

“Please! Turn around! Ford!” Tears trickled down his cheeks. Eventually, his throat hurt to continue yelling. So, his screams fell into choking sobs.

At night, as they stopped, Stanley refused to get out of the car. He curled up and faced away from the door. Cass ended up unbuckling him and bringing him inside the hotel room, where Stanley refused to eat dinner. Though she could drag him out of the car, there was no way she was able to force him to eat. So, he grabbed his bag and lay down, back facing her.

“Really, baby, I’m sorry.” She tried setting her hand on his shoulder. He shrugged her off and curled up tighter in his ball. He ignored any further apologies she offered him or any explanation. They were getting a divorce and that’s how divorces worked. She wanted to keep the both of them, but she was “lucky to get him”, whatever _that_ meant. Lucky for her, _maybe,_ but not for him–definitely not for him. Sure, he loved Cass, but he loved Ford, too.

As Stanley stared at the wall near his bed, he fell into thought. He needed his brother. There was nothing else to it. He needed Stanford. The memory of watching his brother being pulled into the air and locked away burned into his mind. The demon’s awful laughter echoed in his head. For three days Stanley survived Hell. When he got Stanford back, everything went right. He needed his brother. Oh Moses, what if things went bad again? What if things went horrible and Stanley had to eat beaver again? Oh, no. No, no, no he couldn’t let that happen. He’d live in that dumb town forever if he…

Now, Stanley’s eyes grew round. Why didn’t he think of this earlier? The solution was so stupidly easy it was right in his grasp!

_Oh my–that’s it!_ Stanley slowly turned his head and looked back. Cass had fallen asleep. Stanley was near to sleeping, too. The buzzing thoughts in his head wouldn’t let him, though. That was a good thing. That kept him awake.

Intent on staying quiet and stealthy, Stanley slowly slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb her. Even if Stanley had to leave, he was definitely _not_ making this easy on _anyone._ Thankfully, being difficult was what Stanley did best.

Deftly, the boy grabbed his suitcase and picked it up. The wheels stuck a bit sometimes and made noise rolling across the floor. So, he’d have to carry it. He shut and locked the bathroom door. That should stall her, even if it was just for a little while. Stanley dug through his mother’s purse, fished out a few coins, bills, and snacks, stuck them in his pocket, and slipped out the door with hardly a noise. All that sneaking around the creaky old Shack was finally paying off!

Stanley passed their car without a glance back at it. She probably had the alarm turned on or whatever. So, trying to open the door would cause his mother–and everyone else–to wake up.

Stanley wandered down the road. He had a good night to walk and part of the morning before his mother realized he was gone. By that time, he’d be long gone. Stanley couldn’t help the small smile he held at his victory. He was brilliant. All he had to do was walk back to New Jersey and hide out at Glass Shard Beach. After a while, Stanford would go back and find him! If not, he could go home himself and find him in his room.

Yet, as the night drew on and Stanley got tired, he began to wonder if he was even going the right way. This road sort of looked familiar. He probably should have looked at a map. Oh well. This was a road. He was bound to come across another city soon enough. He had enough money to use a pay phone or bus ticket and snacks to last a day or so. He shouldn’t be worried. Still, worry _did_ nag at the back of his mind. What if he did get lost? What if the next town was too far away?

Stanley looked up. The stars twinkled high above him. Silently thanking his great uncle for forcing them to learn how to chart the stars, Stanley referenced the stars and the road. He was going home.

Stanley started to get tired. He pressed forward, anyway. The wheels on his bag dragged over the side of the quiet road. Once, he saw a flash of headlights as a car passed by him, going back in the direction he left. Eventually, another passed him, going in The direction Stanley was heading. He stayed off the road. His parents and grandparents and great aunt and uncle told him not to talk to, or accept rides from, strangers. So, he shouldn’t flag down anyone.

Hours later, the sky started to brighten. Stanley’s head was down, and he walked in a shuffle. The fantasy of having Fiddleford fly in on some new big robot crept into his mind. If Fiddleford was there, they’d be able to go to New Jersey and meet up with Stanford. Then they could fly or swim away in some super cool giant robot. Another set of headlights caused him to wince and lift his head. Please say he was near a town…

Stanley wheezed and stopped. He couldn’t continue walking. So, he walked into the tree line and hid a few yards within the forest. He collapsed, his back against the trunk of a rather large tree. He dug out a water bottle and downed half of it. He ate part of a sandwich they packed. Stanley pulled out one of his winter time coats and threw it over his shoulders. After checking to make sure he and his bag were out of sight of the road, he shut his eyes and commanded himself to rest, just for a few minutes.

 

When he woke up, the sun was a few hours above the horizon. Stanley rubbed his eyes and looked around. “Wha…? Oh. Right.” He drank some more water, ate a few pieces of sugary candy from his bag, and started walking again. He stayed out of view of the road. He could see it through the trees. Speeding cars couldn’t see him, though.

By the time noon rolled around, he found himself in a small town. Stanley looked around at the scant buildings around him. There should be some place with a map around here… He looked up at a sign boldly stating: “WELCOME TO MASON COVE”. Where was Mason Cove? He didn’t recognize that name. Try as he might, couldn’t find a payphone there. Oh well. Maybe there was one in the next town over.

He found himself in a small shop on the road. There weren’t too many people here. He stopped by a man looking over a drink cooler. “Hey, uh, dude?”

The guy looked down at him. “Yeah, kid?”

“Where are we?” Stanley prompted.

The man’s eyebrows furrowed. “Mason Cove?”

“No, the state,” Stanley denied. “I’m on a road trip.”

The man brightened. “Oh! Yeah, you’re in Virginia.”

“Virginia?” _Oh man. It might take longer to get home than he thought._ “Uh, thanks.” Stanley walked off into one of the isles. Okay, so he could probably get a bus ticket. That would be the best option. He stopped by the counter. “Hey, uh, sir? Do ya know the best bus to New Jersey is?”

The cashier shrugged. “I dunno. The only buses I know of are in Roanoke, which is… just South-East of here.”

“Okay, thanks.” With that, Stanley walked out of the store and down the road, probably where South-East was. He looked up at the sky to check his position. Yep. South-East. He turned back to the road before him, his bag still dragging behind him. The wheels were a bit rougher, now, and the bag itself dirty. Stanley was a bit dirty, too, and stinky from walking so long. He’d get a shower or whatever later.

Wow, how far away was Roanoke?

Stanley, after a solid hour of walking, caught himself glancing back. Maybe he could just catch a ride…? No, no he wouldn’t do that. The town was close, it had to be. Stanley perked up. He could see the flashy metal of another car and the solid gray and brown of a new building. Yes! He was in Roanoke, he had to be! Now all he had to do was find directions to the nearest bus and go to New Jersey. Piece of cake.

He stopped by the first gas station he saw and wandered inside. He immediately went to the cashier. “Do you know where the nearest bus to, uh, Pennsylvania is?” _If he asked for New Jersey, she could tell the cops a lost kid was looking for a bus to New Jersey. That’d tip them off real quick._

“Pennsylvania?” the cashier echoed. “Uh… that’s, like, two states away. I think the Speedy Beaver takes people across states.”

“Cool! Where’s that?” Stanley grinned.

The cashier shrugged. “Uh, probably farther in the city. Lemme check.” She pulled out her phone and flicked through it a bit. “Yep. Nearest ’Beaver is ten minutes away from the airport. Like… South East of us. You, uh, have parents?”

Stanley nodded. “Yeah I have parents. I need to go to the bus to meet them.”

“What are you doing all the way out here, then?” The cashier put away her phone. “You got a ride?” Stanley shook his head. “Dude, that’s, like, a three-hour walk. Trust me, I’ve walked to the airport before.”

“I’ve got it.” Stanley let go of the counter and walked off. “Thanks.”

“Uh, sure. Good luck, buddy.”

_Three hours._ How long had Stanley been walking for? A while, probably. A few hours at the very least. Three hours should be a cinch. Stanley fished out a few pieces of candy and worked on them for a bit. The sugar gave him the boost he needed to continue his walk. His legs felt like noodles that were still being cooked. Still, he was going to find his brother. He wouldn’t let something dumb like exhaustion keep him down. Then again, he was really tired…

Stanley shook his head. Nope. He was going to keep walking. That was that. He was going to keep walking until he found the bus. Then he’d go to New Jersey and stay by the Stan o’ War to wait for Stanford. Easy. He made the best plans.

Three or so hours later, Stanley was starting to doubt how good his plans really were. Eventually, he found a bench to collapse on and drank the last of his water. He tempered it with the peanut butter and jelly sandwich so that his mouth wasn’t dry, and the sticky peanut butter didn’t make him even more thirsty.

Stanley riffled through his bag. One of Stanford’s shirts had gotten into his clothes as well as one of his nerd bobbles from the Space Shack. Stanley looked over the alien space ship. He felt his throat tighten. He missed Grunkle Dipper and Grauntie Mabel. He wished he could go back and just stay in Gravity Falls forever. Then he and Stanford would get to stay together, and everything would be fine. He’d have to find Stanford first. Then… then they’d think of something.

Eventually, Stanley put away his things, heaved himself off the bench, and walked around until he found the bus station. He checked over a board of prices and stuck his hand into his pocket. Bus tickets cost a lot more than he previously thought. Stanley sat down on one of the benches and rifled through his things. He found some spare change–just a few pennies and nickels and the odd quarter. Paired with the money pilfered from his mother’s purse, it was just barely enough.

Stanley walked up to the line and waited his turn. Once he got up to the counter, he stood up on his tip toes and, with the best smile he could summon, bought his ticket to New Jersey. Although the man behind the counter seemed skeptical, he took the money and passed back a ticket. Stanley ran off to sit down on the bench and look through his things. So, he had a few pennies, a ticket to his home, and half a day’s worth of snacks and one more drink of water to his name along with toys and clothes. As his game kid wasn’t fully charged, he plugged it into the wall and played a bit.

“Hey, kid?”

Stanley paused his game and looked up. A woman in an employee uniform stood above him. “Yeah?”

“Are your parents here?”

Stanley shook his head. “Nope. I’m gunna be meetin’ them.”

“Are you sure?” Her tone took a concerned turn.

Stanley nodded. “Mhm.” He held up his ticket. “I’m on the next bus home.” He went back to his game.

The woman frowned but left all the same. Stanley spared a glance up. She was gone. He looked up every once in a while. Eventually, his bus number and time arrived. Stanley packed away his things and ran into the crowd. They took his ticket without sparing a glance. He slipped between a few people to get a seat near the middle of the bus. He was forced to be pressed against the window as an adult just about the size of his father sat beside him. Stanley looked out the window and went back to his game.

Stanley didn’t know when it happened, but he fell asleep. When he woke up, the sky was dark. The man who sat Right beside him had his hat down over his eyes and quietly snored. Stanley looked out the window and watched the scenery pass. It was not long before they were in the grit and grime of another city. As the bus traveled, the area around him became more and more familiar. Stanley grinned. Home! He was nearing home!

Once the bus stopped, Stanley slipped out of his seat and hopped off the bus. Stanley spared a glance around. His father wasn’t anywhere in sight. His mother was nowhere in sight, either. That was good. She probably didn’t know he’d taken the bus. His mother was smart. She knew he’d be heading home. She might even assume he’d taken the bus. He had to be discrete.

Stanley looked around the streets as he walked. He doubted his father would be outside at this hour. He should be safe. Yet if anyone recognized him, he’d be as good as caught. So, Stanley walked with his head down and shoulders hunched. His dark gaze flicked back and forth constantly. The more he walked, the more paranoid he became. What if someone saw him? What if someone caught him? What if the police found him? They’d take him and hold him at the station until his mother picked him up. She’d be more paranoid and hold him tighter. He’d never ever get to see Stanford again. It would be a disaster in the making.

Stanley stopped. _“Pines Pawns”_ stood dark and silent a few houses away. Stanley nearly smacked himself for not paying attention to where he was going. Stanley took a step back. He stopped himself from moving any farther. The light in the second story was on. What if he found a way to catch Stanford’s attention? Then they could figure out a plan together! He wouldn’t need to wait in their old boat for a long time.

Stanley snuck up to the house. He couldn’t hear anything going on. Stanley plucked a stone from the street and threw it at the window. It flew straight through the open window and hit something made of wood–most likely the frame of their bunk bed. Something else fell within. Stanley waited patiently for the noise to die down and then whatever was in the room to move. Stanford’s eyes peeked out from behind the sill. His eyes went wide as moons. Stanley grinned and hopped on his heels. Stanford vanished from view.

A few seconds later, the door creaked open. Stanley stumbled back and hit a trashcan as Stanford launched himself at him. “Stan!” he choked out.

“Ford!” Stanley squeezed shut his watery eyes and coiled his arms around his brother. He made a sad sound between a laugh and a sob. “Ford!”

“You’re back! You’re safe!” Stanford whined, tightening his grip on his brother as if he’d vanish any second. “I-I overheard Mom saying you’d run away. I-I thought–!”

“–that your bro was too awesome to get eaten by bears?”

Stanford looked at the back of Stanley’s head. “I thought you were going to get killed, Stanley! I thought you were gone forever!”

Stanley shook his head. “Nah, man. We’re bros. We have to stick together.”

The first story light flicked on.

The boys bristled and looked back. Heavy footsteps crossed through the shop and to the front door. “Dad!” the two breathed.

Stanley abandoned his bag and darted down the street. Stanford immediately followed.

“Stanford!” Neither boy looked back as Filbrick called his oldest son’s name. “Stanford, get back here!”

Stanley looked back and gave Filbrick a gesture he learned from Janice before turning a corner. Stanford stayed at his side. Soon, the both of them were panting in exhaustion.

Still, neither boy quit in their run. They ran until they hit the beach. Stanley started toward their boat. Stanford grabbed his wrist and tugged it away. “We’ll be found in seconds if we hide there!”

“Where do we go?” Stanley burst out.

“That cove where we found it first!” Stanford wheezed.

Stanley nodded and pulled ahead again. They zipped past the “NO TRESSPASSING” sign, where the “NO” had been crossed out with spray-paint, and through the triangular hole in the boards Stanley made with his fist. Their steps slowed as they found the salty pool at the end. Holes in the wall and ceiling of the cove dappled the ground in moonlight. The boys sank down by the rock wall, leaning on each other as well as the stone behind them.

As their wheezing breaths calmed, Stanford prompted, “Plan?”

“Nope,” Stanley answered. “Plan was to find you.”

Stanford nodded. “Got it.”

Once they’d completely caught their breath, Stanford turned to Stanley. “How did you get here, Stanley?”

Stanley chuckled. “Long story. I did a _lot_ of walkin’.”

Stanford grinned. “I think I can handle a long story.”

“Good! ’Cause I was gunna say it anyway!” Stanley sat up straight. “So, Ma took me away, right? We drove basically all day…” Stanley launched into his epic tale of travel and navigation and rationing. He used quite a few grand gestures along the way. “And then I hopped onto the bus and got here, silent as an owl. Boom! There you were!”

Stanford smiled sheepishly. “Stanley, you went through three entire states to find me. Thank you.”

“Dude, you’re my bro.” Stanley smiled and lay his head back. “I’d look for you for forever if I had to!” He pointed to the wall, where he and Stanford had signed their names. “Remember what I said when we found the Stan o’ War? ‘Wherever we go, we go together!’ I meant it.”

Stanford’s eyes watered. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, Stanley. Thank you.”

Stanley yawned. “So, how’s Gompers?”

Stanford’s smile dissipated. He whimpered. “G-Gompers… h-he–P-P-Pa–”

“Pa didn’t take him away.” Stanley sat up straight. Stanford hiccupped and nodded. Stanley drew him in for a hug. “We’re breaking into that store and getting your goat back.”

“S-Stanley, you c-can’t break into a p-pet store,” Stanford tried lamely.

“Watch me. Besides, Gompers is yours, ain’t he?”

Stanford nodded. “Y-yes, I did win Gompers at the fair. But Pa…”

“Well we’re not with Pa anymore so who cares what he has to say?” Stanley exclaimed. “We’re finding Gompers. Then, we’re getting out of here and we’re _never_ looking back. Got it?”

Stanford shut his eyes and nodded. “Where are we going to go, Stanley? We can’t just leave.”

“Sure, we can. People do it all the time,” Stanley denied. “With your smarts and my punching, we can do whatever we want!”

Stanford smiled. “Stanley, that plan isn’t going to work.”

Stanley smirked and shut his eyes. “Yeah, well, I’ll _make_ it work. You watch.” He yawned. “You just watch. We don’t need them. We’ll go out on our own and be monster hunters. We’ll find treasure and beat up all the monsters…”

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

Mabel slapped down an eight of clubs. “Ey! I call this a heart.”

“You always call hearts,” Dipper accused, shuffling through his own hand to bring out a two of hearts.

“You complaining?”

“No. You’re just way too predictable.”

Mabel tipped her head to look past Dipper at Pacifica. “Am I too predictable?”

Pacifica put down her card. “Well…”

“Knew it.” Dipper smirked.

Before Mabel could counter him, her phone went off in a spunky eighties song. “Whoop! I’m being summoned. Be right back!” She picked Up her phone and started to leave.

Dipper pointed to the green button. “Caller ID is above that so you know who you’re talking to. Just be sure the little speaker icon isn’t on or it will turn on speaker phone.”

“Gotcha!” Mabel clicked her tongue and sauntered off. Waddles honked and shambled after her. “Hey, Cassy! How’s my favorite niece doing?”

Cassandra Pine’s shaky voice came from the receiver. _“Aunt Mabel. Oh Moses, I need your help.”_

Mabel’s smile vanished. “Cass? Are you alright?”

_“No. Stanley’s gone, Mabel! Stanley ran away!”_

“What?!” Mabel choked and put a hand to her mouth. “Stanley _ran away?_ Why?” Her sweater changed from a pinkish violet with a shooting star to a deep maroon. Waddles copied her color and he snorted in uncertainty. From the other room, Dipper couldn’t hear the words. He could understand the laughter was gone, though. He pulled himself to his feet and walked away with a dim mumble.

_“He’s upset. I… it’s a long story. Stanley ran off and now Stanford’s gone, too! He somehow got back to New Jersey and now both of them are gone!”_

“Now both of them are gone?” Mabel echoed. She looked at Dipper, who stopped in the hallway. “What do you mean _both_ of them? Wasn’t Stan already in New Jersey? Those boys do everything together! I would have a really hard time believing Stanley ran off without Stanford.”

Dipper’s eyes grew round in shock. “Did they really?” he whispered. Mabel nodded.

_“I… it’s a long story. But Stan and Ford are gone and we don’t know where they could’ve gone! I was wondering if maybe they called you or one of their friends in Gravity Falls.”_

Mabel shook her head. “They didn’t call us. Did they?” Dipper shook his head. “I’ll check up on their friends. If those boys are too scared to call us for help, they’d go to Fiddleford first or Dan, Maria, and Susan, right? Now, we’re going to be there in a while, okay? Dip and I are leaving straight away for New Jersey. We’ll help you find them.”

_“Thank you!”_ Stans’ mom choked. _“Bless you, Aunt Mabel! Thank you so much!”_

“I can’t just leave my niece hanging, can I? Besides, whatever happened, I’m sure with a nice talk over some of my amazing cocoa we can straighten all of this out. Now you go to bed, Sweetie. We’ll be there soon.”

_“Thank you. I-I will. Thank you so much! B-bye Aunt Mabel.”_

“Good-bye, Cass.” _Click._

Mabel put away her phone. “Stan and Ford ran away so we’re gunna find them.” She walked into the living room, her sweater a vibrant yellow. Her yellow space hog stayed by her side. The good mood from earlier had dissipated. Now, Wendy, Grenda, Candy, and Pacifica had taken on looks of confusion and nervousness and suspicion. “Okay! So, change of plan. Dip and I are scooting off to New Jersey. You can continue the game without me. Lock the door behind you, please. We’ll be back in a few days!”

“What is wrong?” Candy prompted. “Did something happen?”

“Yeah, but it’s a long story and I don’t even understand it. Dipper’ll tell you better than me.” Mabel turned and rushed off into the next room.

“Ford and Lee ran away,” Dipper admitted.

_“What?”_ the question went up around the table.

Grenda prompted, “Why? What happened?”

Dipper sighed. “Well… you don’t remember me saying the reason they stayed with their nervous old space-shop uncle, do you? Guess I didn’t tell you. Their parents are getting a divorce–or already got one, it seems. They needed their children out of their hair for the time being. I knew they were splitting up their business and things, but I had no idea they’d try and split up the twins. Stanley and Stanford love each other and need each other. A divorce between their parents couldn’t take that away from them. Stanley’s stubborn as any man I know. He ran off and found Stanford and now the two of them are gone.”

Wendy stood up. “We’re helping you.”

Dipper smiled. “Thank you, but I don’t know what you’d be able to do.”

Pacifica stood up and took out her phone. “I’ll call someone to bring a helicopter over and pick us up. Get your things ready.”

“We will split up to find them,” Candy agreed as she abandoned the table. “I will ask my grandson if they called them.”

“We’ll go together!” Grenda agreed, jumping up. “We’re masters of _search!_ ”

Mabel, a bag over her shoulders, grinned. “That’s my girls! We’ll find those kids, clean up this mess, and make everything better!”

*          *          *          *          *

When the Stan twins woke up, it was already almost noon. Sunlight spilled in through cracks in the wall and ceiling. Stanley shifted and sniffed. He felt the sand and earth beneath his fingers and the hard stone against his back and rear. Stanford, waking as well, had the same ache from sleeping sitting up in a cold stony cave on the beach by Stanley.

Stanley sat up and yawned, waking his brother. “Okay. So, first order of business: Gompers. Do you know where Dad put him?”

“He gave Gompers to the local pet shelter,” Stanford admitted. “I hope no one adopted him.”

“It’s been, like, two days. I doubt it.” Stanley pushed himself to his feet. “Either way, we should get there now.”

Stanford nodded and got up. “That would be the best course of action. We need to get there as quickly as we can, but with as little disturbance as well.”

“We’ll need to _break in._ ” Stanley grinned his devilish grin.

“No. Let’s try being forward and honest,” Stanford stated. “We can’t get in trouble with the law.”

“They’re going to be looking for us, anyway,” Stanley pointed out. “Anyway, all we have to do is open his cage, if they put him in one. Then we can run off like bandits in the night! Come on!” He turned and ran out of the cave. Stanford sighed and followed.

 

_“I’m kinda hungry.”_ Stanley forced down the thought. Sure, he hadn’t eaten a real, decent meal in days. Still, they didn’t have any money. All the food Stanley had–which was just a few candy pieces–was left in his bag that he abandoned. Any money he had–which consisted of a few pennies–was gone as well. Maybe he should have thought this plan through a bit more. No! He couldn’t doubt himself, not right now! After they found Gompers, they’d go out on their own and chase monsters and be treasure hunters. Treasure was worth a lot.

Once they got to the pet store, both boys went to the front desk. Stanford put his hands on the desk and stood up on his tip-toes. “Ma’am?”

The woman turned her attention to him. “Hello there! Do you need any help?”

Stanford nodded. “Yeah. My Dad accidently brought our pet goat here. We need him back.”

“Pet goat?” she echoed. “Well, we have _one_ goat.”

“Gompers!” Stanford agreed.

“Do you have proof of adoption?” she prompted.

“I won him at a fair,” Stanford denied. “Besides, he knows me. I-in fact, you can just open the door and he’ll come out to find me.”

“I’m sorry, kid, but… are your parents here?”

Stanford and Stanley both shook their heads. Stanley piped up, “We’re just gettin’ him back. We don’t need them to find Gompers.”

The woman’s calm patience quickly turned to skepticism. “I’m sorry, but I’ll need to talk to your parents, or the one who gave your pet to the shelter. As goats are nontraditional pets, we won’t be holding him here for much longer.”

Stanley pouted and took Stanford’s hand. “Fine. Come on, Ford.” He stalked out of the Shelter, his distraught brother behind him. “Gompers was yours!” he burst out upon leaving.

“Maybe we need to ask Grunkle Dipper?” Stanford prompted. “Maybe he could get the paperwork back.”

Stanley glared back at the shop. “Nope. We’re doing this ourselves.” With that, he turned and walked down the street. “We just need to get behind the store and break in.”

“We could get arrested!” Stanford pointed out.

“Gompers could be taken away!” Stanley countered. “Family’s more important than the law, dude. You know that.”

“We don’t have food for him.”

“He’s a goat. We’ll have food for him,” Stanley scoffed.

Stanford finally relented. “You’re right. We’re going to get Gompers back. Then, we need to leave New Jersey for good.”

Stanley smirked. “That’s the spirit!”

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

Mabel feverishly knitted a new red sweater. A small red sweater was next to her, having been finished the night prior. Now, as they flew through the night, Mabel worked on this one. Waddles, a tranquil shade of baby blue with turquois-tufted ears, lay on her feet. Her own sweater was baby blue but decorated with little stars. Dipper tapped his foot and looked through his laptop. Pacifica sat back, her eyes closed and breath even. Wendy was half asleep as well. Grenda and Candy watched as Mabel worked.

As the sun drifted over the horizon, the helicopter they were in slowed. Mabel quickly finished the red and gold sweater and put it away. Once they landed, and the pilot gave them the okay, they hopped out and walked to the edge of the parking lot.

“Alright, party people!” Mabel announced. “Let’s split up and search the area! Cass will be back here in a few hours. Fil’s probably already looking on his own. Let’s split up this place. I will go north. Wendy: you go south. Grenda: you go west. Candy: you go east. Dipper: you go to the police station and child services. Pacifica: you check in with Cass and Fil and collaborate. We’ll meet back here by noon, grab some lunch, and keep searching. Call if you find anything at all. Be gentle, too. They’re probably paranoid and freaked out. Once we find them, lunch is on me. Now let’s go find us a couple of twins!”

The party split up from there. Mabel strolled about casually. She greeted people as she went and walked into stores and gas stations and any bus stops she encountered. People would normally be happy to reply–until they saw the three-foot-tall, saber-toothed, pink hog-esc creature that sounded like a strangled goose by Mabel. One bus stop for the Speedy Beaver reported having a kid–age twelve to thirteen–in a red and white striped shirt with a rolling bag decorated by sports pins and stickers.

_“Last night?”_ Dipper prompted. _“He couldn’t have gone far, then. He met up with Ford, so he probably ran in Wendy’s direction.”_

“Cool. I’ll call her next. Thanks, Dippin’ dots!” Mabel quickly switched numbers. “Wendy!”

_“Hey! Find anything?”_

“Yep. Stanley came to this bus stop late last night and headed directly to the house. They probably ran off in your direction. The beach is a good bet since they spend a lot of time there.”

_“Gotcha. I’m sure we’ll be having some crazy lunch with them soon enough.”_

“I hope so!”

Candy fared no better than Dipper. None of the police stations seemed to have even gotten the call about Stanley or Stanford, nor did child services. Nothing of interest to the boys had been east of their meeting place. Pacifica was getting virtually nowhere with their parents. Grenda, however, stumbled across a new piece of the puzzle. _“Mabel!”_

“Yeah, Grendinator?”

_“This pet shop person just told me they had Ford’s pet goat.”_

“What?! Filbrick got rid of Gompers?!”

_“Yep. Lee and Ford came around a few minutes ago looking for them. They’re close!”_

“Good! You tell them to hold onto that goat. We’ll take care of him.”

*          *          *          *          *

 

Stanley and Stanford now stood just behind the pet shop. The alley was dirty and run down and something he saw in movies a lot before the main character got kidnapped or stabbed. Still, Stanley had been through worse. He’d dodged monsters and crawled through broken alleyways and survived on nothing but candy and boiled beaver for two and a half days. Stanford, who had spent most of the apocalypse hiding in a calm, orderly library until they met Bill and then nearly died, stuck close to his brother’s side.

Stanley stopped by the back door and held up his hands in sign language. _“You stay here as look-out. I will open the cage and bring Gompers out. If you see anything–or think you see anything–give the signal.”_

_“Which one?”_ Stanford responded in sign language.

_“The only things I know in Morse: ‘hello’ and ‘bye’.”_

_“Fair enough.”_ Stanford nodded sharply and looked around the alleyway.

Stanley crept up to the locked door. The door opened with hardly any effort or noise. Stanley had trained all summer in picking home-made, extremely difficult locks made by Fiddleford and opening creaky doors in Grunkle Dipper’s old Shack, so the lock wasn’t difficult, and it was easy to keep quiet.

The hard part was getting past the animals.

Stanley picked up a bag of treats and walked down the aisle, handing out treats to dogs and cats to keep them quiet. When he got to Gompers, the goat bleated and hit the bars of his cage with his one-horned head. Stanley opened the cage, patted the goat on the head, and shut it behind him.

_Dit-dit-dit-dit, dit, dit-dah-dit-dit, dit-dah-dit-dit, dah-dah-dah._

Stanley jumped at the sudden noise as Stanford tapped the door and dragged a stone across it so fast he hardly caught it.

Stanley picked up Gompers and rushed into a closet. A pair of footsteps passed through the hall and stopped by the cage. “…got a goat, let me check. Oh. _Jeez. I swear if she packed you up already._ Uh, no. No problems, one of the staff took him for a check-up…” The voice trailed off as the woman checking on Gompers walked away.

_Dah-dit-dit-dit, dah-dit-dah-dah, dit._

A few seconds after the voice left, Stanford tapped on the door. Stanley slipped out of the closet and snuck down the hall, replacing the treats as he went. Once he made it outside, Gompers struggled out of Stanley’s arms and launched himself at Stanford.

Stanford squeaked and held onto Gompers, laughing. “Gompers!”

Stanley smiled and nodded. “No goat left behind. Now come on. They might be coming back soon. You heard that lady.”

With that, the two scampered off as quietly as they could, Gompers held tight in Stanford’s arms.

Soon enough, they were walking Through the city streets.

Stanford set Gompers down so that the baby goat could walk by his side. “Stan, what are we going to do now?”

“Live as awesome renegades of course.”

“What about school? Or home? Or our parents or friends or–”

“Ford.” Stanley stopped and set both hands on Stanford’s shoulders. The boy stopped speaking. “Maybe we can go to school somewhere else, but not right now. If we go back, Dad and Mom will be right there waiting for us. We can call Fidds. I have Darlene’s number already and we know his. I know they’re all the way across the country, but I’m sure that we’ll make it work.”

“What if we just go back to Grunkle Dipper and Grauntie Mabel?”

“They’ll take us back home. They love us, but they’re also adults, remember?” Stanley pointed out. “Adults have to be _responsible_. Being responsible means bringing us back to Ma and Pa, even if they don’t want to. Then we’ll get separated again! Probably for good!”

Stanford sighed and nodded. “That’s true. Alright. Any plans on where we should go first?”

“Well, small towns are a bust. So, we’ll have to head to a city. You don’t happen to have anything on you, do you?” Stanley prompted as they began to walk.

Stanford nodded. “I have my journal, a crossbow, and enough for either a few tickets or a few meals. I also have some snacks and extra pens and paper.”

“Hmm…” Stanley looked around. “Well, we can get a few tickets and get out of here. Once we’re super far away, we can figure something out for food. I ate a beaver. Beaver’s horrible, but we won’t die eating it.”

“Ew.” Stanford wrinkled his nose. “That’s disgusting.”

“Yeah, pretty much. What do you think?”

“I’d like something to eat,” Stanford stated. “More than just a few snacks. Let’s see how much a bus ticket costs, though.”

Soon enough, they were by a bus station. The boys looked over a rather large map of the different stops the bus made. “Well…” Stanley looked at the map and then pointed to New Mexico. “We’ve never gone there b’fore.”

“That’s _really_ far away,” Stanford pointed out.

“That’s the point, right?”

“True, but… but somewhere with more forest because we could die in the desert. How about Texas?”

“Sure. Sounds cool.”

With that, the boys walked into the bus station. Very little attention was drawn to them, save for Gompers. Still, they tried to act as nonchalant as possible.

However, as they got near the front of the line, Stanley spotted a few workers chatting nearby. One threw a few conspicuous glances at them before leaving. The other stayed as though on guard, though he looked at the boys too often for his liking. Stanley grabbed Stanford’s wrist. “They’re onto us. Let’s try the next city.”

Stanford glanced at him but did not argue. Instead, he followed Stanley as he slipped into the crowd. Stanford picked up Gompers to be sure they didn’t get separated. Stanley tried not to look back, but it was pretty hard. Looking nonsuspicious wasn’t a strong suit of Stanley’s. He always ended up looking around, shifting too much, getting a weird pitch to his tone, compulsively lying about the dumbest things, or getting really defensive. Although Stanley was a better liar, Stanford was better about keeping a cool head.

Unfortunately, their luck did not last.

Growing desperate after failing to eat breakfast–and, in Stanley’s case, dinner as well–and approaching lunch, the two went into a sandwich shop and ordered a large sandwich to split between them. Now, Stanley and Stanford were in one of the chairs just inside of a sandwich shop. The sandwich was gone, and Gompers was still munching on the side-order of lettuce they’d bought.

Stanley sighed. “Okay. So, we’ll need a little more time to think about this.”

“That is true,” Stanford agreed. “We need to be quiet.”

The door to the sandwich shop opened. They looked back and immediately hid under the table. They recognized the rather large woman that walked into the shop, then. They recognized the deep, rumbling voice that sounded like she had a permanent cold.

“Hey! Have you seen a couple of young boys? They’re thirteen?” Grenda prompted. “Brown hair, kinda mouthy. Twins.”

The clerk perked up. “Alone?”

Grenda nodded.

“I think so,” the woman answered. “Brown, curly hair. Twelve or thirteen-ish. One had a red and white shirt, another had a jacket. Had a baby goat with them.”

“That’s them!”

“They came in here a few minutes ago. They bought a sandwich. I don’t think they left.” She looked over at the table the two hid under. Grenda followed her gaze. Stanford and Stanley glanced at each other and then at the women who could plainly see them.

Stanley breathed, “You wanna run for it?”

Stanford whispered, “We won’t be able to escape. Even though we could outrun her, Grenda wouldn’t be here alone.”

“Yeah,” Stanley sighed. “We can’t give up without a fight!”

“This isn’t a fight we can win!” Stanford countered. “Besides, don’t we _want_ to go back to Gravity Falls?”

Stanley nodded. “Yeah. We kinda do. But they’re adults, man. They’ll just give us back to Ma and Pa.” He lowered his voice further. “First sign of trouble and we’re running.” Stanford gave him a firm nod.

The boys crawled out from under the table and met Grenda. Stanley held up his hands. “We’re caught. We’ll go with you.”

 

Soon enough, both boys and the baby goat were led down the streets and to a grocery store. Their arms were interlocked, and their fingers intertwined. They held onto each other with strength, as if the slightest bit of slack would tear them apart again. Stanley’s gaze darted around the place as if expecting a monster to leap out from behind any car or pole or bench they passed. “We’re back in the meeting place. Meet us there!” Grenda’s voice was loud and thick as ever.

 

Candy, Pacifica, and Wendy sped-walked from their search places. Mabel and Dipper, side-by-side, hurried from the city to the grocery store. Mabel squealed upon seeing them. “Boys! Oh my gosh!” Waddles honked and turned a bright shade of orange.

“Grauntie Mabel! Grunkle Dipper!” The boys laughed and embraced their sparkly great aunt and nervous great uncle.

Grauntie Mabel squeezed them tight. Grunkle Dipper, arm around her shoulders, pulled both boys toward him. “We were so worried about you boys. You’re alright that’s all that matters, now.”

Stanford nodded and shut his eyes. Stanley looked up at his great aunt. His ecstatic smile fell a bit. “We’re not going back home, are we?”

Grauntie Mabel reluctantly let them go and held them out at arm’s reach. “I heard about what happened. I will guarantee you: as long as I live, I will _never_ let anyone separate you again. Not even you and Gompers. Got it?”

Grunkle Dipper smirked. “Girls live longer than guys. I’d trust her.”

Stanley hugged her again. “I trust you. You better not! Because I don’t care where you take us, I’ll always find Stanford. No matter what.”

Stanford smiled. “I-I’ll come back. I promise. Stanley’s pretty stubborn.”

“That he is,” Grauntie Mabel agreed and stood up. “I’d never doubt a promise either of you makes. Come on, let’s go inside and get something for lunch.”

Stanley and Stanford, still holding each other, followed their great aunt and uncle to the parking lot. In the parking lot, they found their mother’s old car. The Stan twins’ smiles fell a bit. Stanley narrowed his eyes. Their mother climbed out of the car. She wore the biggest smile either of them had ever seen. Yet, when she tried to get near, Stanley squeezed his brother’s hand and pushed him a bit to hide behind their great aunt. This successfully hid Stanford and Made sure she saw Stanley’s distrustful glare. Her smile fell. “Stanley…”

Stanley looked away from her.

Grunkle Dipper patted Stanley’s shoulder. “Hey, Lee. You know this isn’t her fault.”

“Yes it is!” Stanley countered, a bit too fast. “She drove off without Ford, not Pa! She didn’t ask me if I wanted to leave Ford behind!” Their mother winced as if the words he spoke were physical lashes.

Grauntie Mabel stepped to the side. “Let’s get this all figured out, huh? Emotions running high, lots of things happened all at once–we’re all tired and stressed and hungry. We can talk over lunch in the air conditioning!” Waddles walked behind them and sniffed Stanley’s arm.

Stanford looked at Stanley. Stanley looked up at Grauntie Mabel and then him. “You know, hot cocoa sounds fine…”

“She bribing us, Stanley,” Stanford pointed out, now just as tense as Stanley.

“Pfft. Bribing you? I wouldn’t say _that,_ ” Grauntie Mabel huffed with a wave of her hand. “Actually, I would. You’re a smart kid, Ford.”

Stanley smirked as Stanford relaxed a bit. “You have a big ego, dude.”

“I do not!” Stanford squawked.

“Do, too.”

Stanford stuck out his tongue at him. Stanley shoved him, though he didn’t let go.

Another person arrived. This one looked quite a bit like the twins. Stanford and Stanley stopped their teasing play at once. Stanley bristled and glowered at their father. Stanford pressed up against his brother and lowered his head. Although he glared at Filbrick, it was weaker.

“Hey, Little Filly! It’s nice of you to join us.”

“Don’t call me that!” the man hissed.

Grauntie Mabel didn’t blink an eye at the outburst. “We’re taking them home.” Grauntie Mabel clapped her hands together with a rather large grin. “Sorry, kids. We can’t let you live as traveling monster hunters until you’re at least eighteen. Or whatever the legal age is right now.”

“It’s still eighteen,” Dipper confirmed.

“Cool!”

“No. I have legal rights to that boy.” Filbrick took a step forward.

“I’m their great aunt.”

“I’m their _father!_ ”

“You’re a piece of work.”

Stanley hopped around to Grauntie Mabel’s side. “Stanford’s my bro and I don’t care whatever you or Ma or anyone says! We stick together!”

“Boy, you don’t have a say in this,” Filbrick was very quick to counter.

“Yeah, I do!” Stanley snapped. “I don’t care what you say, anymore, you dumb bully! It’s us forever. I don’t care if the gosh darn world is ending! _Which it did!_ Ford an’ I are a team!”

Stanford looked away from his brother. _“Wouldn’t you just be better off on your own? Don’t you hate being called a dumber, sweatier version of me?”_

Stanley didn’t look back. “Not even an all-powerful demon or all the monsters in Gravity Falls or anything you or Ma can say or do! Even if one of us was tricked by a stupid dream demon. It doesn’t matter.” He stamped his foot. “Just because we’re apart doesn’t mean we’re not together, darn it.”

Grauntie Mabel put a hand to her mouth, her round, watery eyes trained on them. Dipper’s nervous grimace became a smile. “Well, when you two work together, there is nothing you can’t do.”

Grauntie Mabel wiped her eyes. “You Pines twins are a great team.”

Filbrick took a step toward them, his glare deepening, if that was at all possible. Waddles snarled like a revving motorcycle and, turning a threatening shade of maroon, charged the man. Filbrick yelled and stumbled to the side, narrowly avoiding a broken femur. Waddles’ tail thrashed, and he roared, baring his baby saber teeth, and charged him again.

“ _Mabel!_ ” Grunkle Dipper hissed.

“What? Filbrick started it.”

“Call him back!”

“This is funny, though.”

“They’re both going to get killed!”

“Space hogs can’t die by an Earth weapon. But fine.” Grauntie Mabel put two fingers to her mouth and whistled.

Waddles, who by now had Filbrick on the hood of his own car, perked up his tufted, sagging ears. His body turned hot pink, a golden star appeared on his flank, and his tail turned purple and ears orange. With a happy snuffle, Waddles trained his bright teal eyes on her and hopped to Grauntie Mabel’s side. “Tough Girl” Wendy, having taken a video of the event, lowered her phone. “Man, the boys aren’t gunna believe this.”

Grenda leaned toward her. “Send it to Tyler, see if he can make it viral.”

Filbrick gently got off his car and onto the parking lot. “That _thing_ just tried to kill me! What the hell is it?!”

“Waddles is a _he_ , thank you very much.” Grauntie Mabel put her hands on her hips. Her sweater changed into her normal shooting star. “He was just defending us. Space hogs love their family very much. Even babies like Waddles will attack. Isn’t that right, baby?” Waddles honked and raised his head into her hand to allow her to pet him.

Stanley, one hand over his mouth, snickered, “Good boy, Waddles.” Waddles head-butted Stanley’s lower chest. The space hog raised one six-toed paw and set it in Stanford’s hand.

The boy gasped, his eyes round. “Stanleylookhe’sholdingmyhand!” Waddles snuffled. His back became a deep brown. Two brown stripes ran along his side. His chest was white. His tufted ears and tail turned bright red. “He likes me!”

Stanley patted the space hog’s head and grinned. “He always liked you more, Sixer.”

“Says the guy whom he always played with.”

As the boys interacted with the baby space hog, the adults turned their attention back to each other. Their conversation was much colder now that they knew the boys weren’t paying any attention to them and Filbrick wouldn’t go anywhere near them. The boys, however, weren’t distracted enough. They could hear every word said with great clarity. Years of ignoring their parents as they not-so-quietly squabbled allowed the boys to pretend they didn’t hear anything.

Stanford jumped as he felt a hand on his shoulder. Candy stood beside them. She let go and walked quietly back into the store. The twins looked at each other and followed.

Candy stated, “They do this. Candy brings you to the store, now.”

It was not long before the wandering woman and boys were joined by everyone else– _most_ everyone else. Pacifica ordered them all a rather large lunch, enough to give everyone to-go boxes, before calling the helicopter back.

 

*          *          *          *          *

 

The Space Shack wasn’t at all quiet. Party glitter and streamers were everywhere. Stanley had consumed enough cookies and coughed up Enough glitter to worry their mother and their great uncle. Stanford got Mabel Juice splashed on him as he tried to steal away one of the many cookies Stanley had. This led to a tussle with both the boys being the losers covered in crumbs and soaked in sparkly juice. Stanford stuffed a few ice cubes down the back of Stanley’s shirt. Stanley had shoved a plastic dinosaur in Stanford’s mouth to keep him from complaining. Not too much happened after the initial sugar buzz ended. After a hefty shower and a new change of clothes and brushing their teeth, they were ushered off to bed. All but Grauntie Mabel, Grunkle Dipper, and Cass left the household. Grunkle Dipper offered to give up his room and stay with Grauntie Mabel–and Mabel vice versa–but she declined and simply slept in the chair in the living room.

In the night, while the others slept, Cass got up and crept quietly up to the attic. The odd wooden stair or plank creaked, which woke Gompers. Stanley and Stanford were much too deep in sleep to be disturbed. She carefully opened the door. Stanford wasn’t in his bed. He’d taken his blanket and climbed into Stanley’s bed. They snuggled together, holding each other tight and matching their breaths as if they’d become one kid.

Her throat tightened, and she put a hand to her mouth. It was like when they were babies and she and Filbrick would wander into different rooms and the boys–unable to properly grasp the concept of distance and time–would panic as if they’d lost their brother forever. They’d scream and cry until they found their brother again. It’s how they taught Stanford how to walk and how Stanley learned to cooperate in school.

Once they got older and realized that going into different rooms wasn’t eternal separation, they got over it. They still didn’t like sleeping alone, though. Eventually, Cass and Filbrick were able to separate them to their own beds, which turned out to be a bunkbed, and were given separate posters to coerce them into making their own separate dens. Filbrick had gotten the bunkbed since there wasn’t much room for two beds. She couldn’t tell them that, though, as when they found out their father–who they thought couldn’t be impressed by anything or show emotion and had not liked their clinginess–gave them beds so close, they automatically assumed it was because Filbrick was being nice.

Cass stood at the door a little longer, watching her boy sleep. Her heart ached. Stanley… Stanley had genuinely hated her, there was no doubt about it. No matter what her aunt or uncle said, Stanley had glared at her with the same hate he’d use on anyone when they tried to corner him or Stanford.

Gompers made a tiny bleat, jarring her out of her thoughts. The goat curled up by Stanford’s legs. His head was up, and his wide-open eyes stared at her. It was a bit creepy; goats had weird eyes. Stanford loved the little goat so much, however. That goat trailed behind him wherever he went. He still regarded Stanley with some apprehension, which was sort of odd. Though, if she knew Stanley, it was because the goat didn’t like roughhousing.

Gompers made another very quiet noise. She decided to quietly shut the door and walk back downstairs. She lay back down on the couch and threw her blanket back over herself.

She hadn’t been off her feet for a second before four small hooves pressed down on her side. She looked up and started as she stared straight into those round, side-ways eyes Gompers possessed. He bleated and tried to eat her hair. She waved him off with a quiet _“Shoo!”_ The goat bleated and lay down, immediately giving up whatever small fight-to-be would have ensued. This wasn’t very comfortable, though. Still, she didn’t fight him off. Instead, she closed her eyes and went to sleep as best she could.

 

When morning came around, the family met up with the McGuckets, Susan’s family, and the Northwests for school shopping. Stanford ended up picking out school supplies for the both of them. Stanley ended up goofing around, often putting a bag over his head or sticking pencils in his mouth just to make his brother laugh. When Stanley found out Tate wasn’t easy to make laugh, Stanley turned his complete attention to the fisherman. After a few hours of being worn down, Tate accidentally chuckled at one of Stanley’s jokes, causing the boy to whoop in victory.

Stanford looked out the window of his great uncle’s car as they drove back to the Shack… back home. _Back to our uncle who lives in the woods._

 

UCI XISS WXZH ZIFR NJR KCSW BBX N FHH.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, we’ve come to the end we’ve all been waiting for. This chapter was really fun to write, mainly because it’s my own. By all the good, everything turned out alright! Ah, the cheesiest ending one can expect, though. Stan’s attempts at making Tate laugh during back-to-school shopping were a great part to write, but my favorite was Stan’s journey. He and his brother changed a lot over the summer, and now they’re new kids with open eyes and brave hearts ready for the future!
> 
> It's the end of Season Two and thus the final chapter of _"Our Uncle Who Lives in the Woods"_! It's been a wild ride, one that I'm so happy I got to go on and even happier people enjoyed. I have other works along this same AU that I'm doing. Hopefully, they'll turn out well!  
>  Hey, if you happened to find all the codes and ciphers hidden throughout, tell me, would you? Heck, even just the ones you found if you aren't sure you found all of them. In my original stories, I'm implementing some of them, so feedback here is greatly appreciated!
> 
>  
> 
> _Gsvb Xzmmlg Nzpv Rg Zolmv, yfg Mld Gsvb Mvevi Droo Yv._

**Author's Note:**

> Is this goodbye? Yes. Yes, it is. See you in the next story!


End file.
